


their eulogies sang us to sleep

by RecklessWriter



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Uchiha Itachi Being a Good Brother, Uchiha Itachi Needs a Hug, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, but it's still better than canon, but itachi isn't the one to carry it out, itachi is trying his best, neither of them are okay, the massacre still happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 47,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessWriter/pseuds/RecklessWriter
Summary: "They're dead," Sasuke cries, his tears soaking into Itachi's vest. "Nii-san,they're all dead..."Itachi wraps his arms around his trembling brother, holding him close. He presses his lips against Sasuke's hair, rests his chin on the top of his head.He doesn't cry. He hasn't cried since he was four.AU. The Uchiha Massacre still happens, but not by Itachi's hand. Itachi stays in Konoha, and Sasuke grows up with his brother at his side.
Relationships: Dai-nana-han | Team 7 & Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 315
Kudos: 1075





	1. remember, this is a battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of the stories that I previously posted on my account, but then it got mysteriously deleted. I still don't know what happened, but let's hope it doesn't happen again :)
> 
> To any new readers: I hope you enjoy the story! It was supposed to be only 4 parts (two in itachi's pov and two in sasuke's), but then the first part turned out to be over 15k words, so I'm splitting each part up into 3 chapters. The next two chapters after this one will also be in Itachi's point of view, and will continue on without any time skips.
> 
> Once we get to Sasuke's perspective (chapter 4) then there will be a time-skip.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

* * *

( _In one world, Itachi Uchiha slaughters his entire clan in a single night, leaving only one alive. He leaves his brother in the street, slipping from the village like a ghost._

_In another world, Danzo Shimura never approaches the boy. Never asks a thirteen-year-old child to bloody his hands. Itachi leaves the village on a mission, and a squad of ANBU Black Ops carries out the attack in the dead of night._

_There are no survivors. Except for one._ )

* * *

“Remember, this is a battlefield,” his father says.

It’s the earliest memory that Itachi has. Four years old and standing in the middle of a bloody field. Corpses piled around him, the grass soaked in red. Rain falls heavy on his face, turning his cheeks numb.

His father stands beside him, offering nothing in the way of sympathy or support. And Itachi doesn’t wish for any.

The powerful words push through the roar of the rain, piercing Itachi’s heart. _Battlefield._ It’s not a word for a child to fix in his memory.

“In a few years, you’ll be a shinobi, too. This war might end, but the reality of a shinobi does not change. This is the world you will step into.”

His father’s words are callous. Itachi stands still and endures. If he relaxes his control, then he knows the tears will come.

It isn’t that he’s scared. He isn’t even sad. An emotion that he can’t put into words surges within him, and it causes such a tightness in his chest that he can hardly stand it.

Soaking wet in the rain, his father won’t notice if he cries. Still, Itachi refuses. He feels that if he cries here, he’ll lose something fundamental to himself.

“Father.” Itachi hears his own voice, as if from far away. He realizes that he’s shaking. “Why did you bring me here…?”

It isn’t the chill of the rain. It isn’t fear of the corpses. It’s rage that causes his body to shake.

A warm weight settles on the top of his head. His father’s hand.

“I wanted to make sure you saw this reality.”

Itachi searches his head for the meaning of his father’s words. He’s only four years old; he doesn’t understand the difference between reality and fiction. But he’s able to grasp what his father is saying.

“This is the reality I will live in…”

“That’s right, Itachi,” his father responds. “Shinobi are creatures of this fight. Never forget what you have seen here today.”

Itachi stares out at the bodies, and he burns the sight into his retinas. This is the reality of war. This is the reality of fighting.

The tears come then, despite his attempts to stop them. They spill from his eyes and fall down his cheeks, hidden from sight by the rain.

_Remember, this is a battlefield._

It’s the earliest memory that Itachi has. He never forgets it.

* * *

The morning before Shisui plans to use Kotoamatsukami on Itachi’s father to halt the coup d'état, the Commander sends Itachi’s ANBU squad off on a mission.

The timing strikes Itachi as a bit suspect. Tensions between the village and the Uchiha have never been higher; unofficially, Itachi has been taken off active duty as he works to help mediate the situation. After weeks of careful planning, it’s finally reached a critical juncture.

Now, just a day before Shisui’s due to implement their plans, they decide to send him away?

“You’re too paranoid, Itachi-kun,” Shisui says to him, when Itachi shares with him his feeling of ill-boding. “Stop worrying. It provokes wrinkles.”

Itachi gives the older boy a dry look that he hopes communicates how absurd he finds this advice. _Stop worrying._ As if their clan and their village aren’t currently hovering on the edge of a civil war.

“It will be _fine_ ,” Shisui insists. He steps forward, placing his hands on Itachi’s shoulders. “Everything will work out as we planned. You’ll see.”

Itachi’s just recently had a growth spurt, so he no longer has to angle his head up to meet the other boy’s eyes. His gaze is warm and reassuring, and Itachi feels some of his unease settle.

The situation is complicated and extremely delicate, but the solution is relatively simple. All Shisui needs to do is to get his father alone; once Fugaku calls off the coup d'état, the rest of the clan will fold right after him like dominoes. There’s no reason to believe it won’t work.

But still, the awful feeling in his gut remains.

“Kotoamatsukami will _work_ , Itachi. Go on the mission. You don’t want to give them a reason to suspect something is up. When you get back, this will all be over.”

Itachi presses his lips together, looking into Shisui’s reassuring face. Slowly, he nods. Shisui is right. If he refuses the mission, the Commander will see it as suspicious. And these days, every single one of Itachi’s movements is held under a microscope.

“Trust me,” Shisui says.

Itachi does.

“Be careful of Danzo,” Itachi warns his friend. “I don’t trust him to adhere to Sandaime-sama's orders. He’s much too eager to end this in blood.”

Shisui hums thoughtfully. “Noticed that too, did you? Don’t worry, I’ll keep my guard up. We can still resolve this peacefully.”

Itachi’s eyes harden in a steely resolve. He remembers vividly the last Shinobi World War, despite being so young. He remembers the thick smell of blood in the air, and the bodies piled around him. Shisui remembers it even better.

They won’t let it happen again. They won’t let the village fall to the horror and desolation of war. Peace exists; Itachi knows it does.

This world that they live in is a battlefield. But it doesn’t _have_ to be.

* * *

Itachi leaves with his squad on the mission that afternoon. He doesn’t say goodbye to Sasuke when he leaves, which he feels vaguely guilty for, but the situation with the clan prevents him from lingering on it too long. Sasuke will forgive him. He always does.

Shisui ruffles his hair when he departs, like he’s still five instead of thirteen. “Don’t die, okay? Otherwise I’ll be stuck with your brother. I can’t imagine a worse nightmare.”

A ghost of a smile passes over Itachi’s lips, even as a heavy feeling settles in his gut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sasuke is a delight to be around.”

“Yeah, a delightful _nightmare_.”

“That makes no sense.”

“ _You_ make no sense.”

Itachi hooks his ANBU mask to his belt, hiding the quirk to his mouth. He looks at him seriously. “Be careful, Shisui.”

The levity fades from Shisui’s face, replaced by a matching expression. “I told you, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”

Itachi can’t explain why the words fill him with dread.

* * *

The mission is a simple extract and erase. It’s below Itachi’s pay grade, which only makes him more suspicious about the circumstances surrounding it.

 _You’re too paranoid,_ Shisui told him, and maybe he is. But he doesn’t think he’s _wrong_ , either.

 _Somebody wants me out of Konoha._ It isn’t a comforting thought. Even less comforting is the narrow list of people who could be behind it—a list containing only two names.

Danzo Shimura's pull in the ANBU Black Ops goes deep—almost as deep as the Hokage’s. No one else has the authority needed to influence the Commander’s decisions.

“Should we fan out, Taichou?” Tanuki asks. His dark eyes are sharp behind his mask.

Itachi shuts his worries away, refocusing on his mission. He immerses himself fully in his ANBU persona, thoughts of Shisui and Danzo shoved down firmly into the human part of his brain, and Itachi Uchiha becomes Neko.

The five members of his squad are standing in a dimly-lit bar, their hoods pulled up to obscure their distinctive masks. Neko's eyes are sharp as he scans the bar's patrons, searching for the face of their target.

“Formation 4-C,” he tells them. “Don’t make a move until I give the signal. Hyō, you’re with me.”

All of them are at least twice his age, with three times as much experience, but they move to follow his orders without question. It doesn’t matter to them that he’s only thirteen; he is their captain.

Hyō breaks away with him, her arm brushing his shoulder as they slip through the crowd. Neko spots the target on one of the stools at the bar, and signals Hyō with a hand gesture.

They take seats up front, and Hyō orders them drinks. Neko cups his hands around the mug that’s slid in front of him, his head lowered as he discreetly watches the target.

All members of the squad have taken up position. Tanuki is sitting at a table across the room; Nezumi and Uma are lurking in the corners, hidden in shadow. Hyō taps out a coded message on the back of Neko's hand.

“Not yet,” Neko responds lowly. “Wait for the other Kumo-nin to make contact. We have to be sure he has the scroll first.”

It’s another ten minutes that they sit there, until Neko spots a woman in a Kumogakure headband, walking through the room and up to their target. Hyō gives him a sidelong look, and he taps out a single word on her leg beneath the table. _Wait._

Neko places his hand on the hilt of his katana, pulling the blade out and keeping it lowered under the counter. In the darkness of the bar, no one notices.

Beside them, a pair of patrons are conversing. Their voices filter through Neko's ears, background noise that he doesn’t really hear.

“Did you hear about what happened in Konoha? Disgusting, isn’t it?”

“With the Uchiha? Yeah, I heard. Did they really try to betray the village?”

Neko tenses, his breath catching in his throat. His grip on his sword tightens. Against his will, his focus shifts, from the target to the conversation next to him.

_Did they really try to betray the village?_

Slowly, Neko feels the cracks forming in his persona. Pieces of Itachi Uchiha begin to creep back in. Emotion comes with it, tightening in his chest. Neko’s hand shakes.

“Yeah, they were planning to launch a coup d'état against their Kage. He was forced to launch an attack against them. The entire clan was _slaughtered_.”

A roaring noise fills his ears. Itachi’s katana slips from numb fingers.

“Taichou?” Hyō whispers. Her green eyes are wide behind her mask.

Itachi doesn’t move. The blood in his veins has crystallized, turning to ice water. The world goes fuzzy and distant around the edges, and he can’t seem to touch any of it.

_The entire clan was **slaughtered**._

Feeling slams back into him, like a Chidori through the chest. He stands from the stool abruptly, nearly tripping as he steps back. His hands are shaking.

People are staring. Hyō reaches out to touch his shoulder, and he stumbles back. He can’t breathe. He _can’t breathe_.

 _No_ , Itachi thinks, his thoughts spinning and whirling, tripping over each other in their panic. _No. No. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Shisui was supposed to stop it—_

 _Sasuke,_ Itachi realizes. His heart stops cold in his chest, enveloped by pure panic.

And for the first time in his life, Itachi Uchiha disobeys an order. He abandons the mission and races back home.

* * *

Itachi streaks through Konoha’s gates five hours later, leaving his squad stranded in Tanigakure. His speed rivals that of the late Yellow Flash.

Panic chokes him, an abject fear he’s never felt in his entire life. One thought repeats in his brain, pounding in his skull. _SasukeSasukeSasuke._

The feeling is so strong that it makes him dizzy, a cacophony of _dread_ **panic** _fear_ **desperation** warring in his chest, driving out everything else. Itachi’s never experienced this—the utter terror at the possibility of his most precious person being taken from him.

( _Take care of your baby brother, alright?_ his mother said, cradling the newborn child in her arms.

Itachi nodded fiercely, his hand against the baby's cheek.)

Sasuke is only seven. He’s never even left the village. Itachi’s never had to fear for him like this.

He doesn’t think about his parents. Or about Shisui, or Izumi. He can’t, not now. All that matters is Sasuke.

He’s vaguely aware of the looks the villagers give him as he passes, the emotions that flicker over their faces at the sight of the crest on his back. Unease, fear, anger. Disgust.

_Did you hear what happened? Disgusting, isn’t it?_

He doesn’t look at them. He ignores their stares, distrustful eyes that he’s long grown used to, but have now been dialed up to a hundred. ( _Distrust that is justified, because the Uchiha tried to betray Konoha, and now all of them know—_ )

He passes the Academy, the training grounds, Senju Park. He runs faster than he’s ever run, flying through the streets he’s walked his entire life, and he skids to a stop right outside the Uchiha District, his feet sending up dirt.

The breath leaves his body like a punch.

The compound's entrance is wrapped in yellow crime tape. Two cones are placed on the ground on either side. Itachi steps forward, and he can’t feel the ground beneath his feet. When he reaches forward to grab the crime tape in his hand, it’s like he’s watching someone else’s arm extend out from his body.

_They’re dead. They’re all dead._

For a moment, the world floats away from him. Then adoring eyes and an innocent smile flash through his mind, and reality slams back into him abruptly.

_Sasuke._

When Itachi reaches the Hokage’s office no more than two minutes later, he bursts through the door without knocking for the first time in his life. It’s rude, and it’s disrespectful, but this is _Sasuke_ , and proper protocol went out the window the moment he deserted his mission.

“What happened?” he demands, his hands shaking at his sides. “Where—where is he?”

The old man looks up at him from his desk, a deep grief etched into his face.

* * *

“Your brother is alive,” the Sandaime tells him.

Itachi remembers how to breathe.

* * *

Itachi doesn’t ask for an explanation. Not then. What matters first and foremost is his brother.

The Sandaime escorts him personally to the hospital. Itachi's still wearing his ANBU uniform, his mask clipped at his hip, and he curls his gloved hands into the fabric of his pants, trying to stop their shaking. He feels on the verge of being sick.

“He isn’t hurt,” Sarutobi tells him. “But it’s only been a couple days, so I’ve kept him here for observation. And the compound is still being cleaned up…”

His voice echoes strangely in Itachi’s ears, bouncing off the walls of his mind. Itachi follows behind him obediently, his every thought focused on his brother. On seeing him, on making sure he is safe. _SasukeSasukeSasuke._

He doesn’t think about his mother. He doesn’t think about his father. He doesn’t think about Shisui ( _oh god, Shisui—_ ). He doesn’t think about any of them, because if he does, even for a second, then his knees are going to give out and he won’t be able to stand back up.

He doesn’t think about them ( _dead dead dead all dead_ ). He doesn’t think about the compound, covered in crime tape ( _it should have worked, it was going to work, why didn’t it work—_ ). He shuts every emotion down, the way ANBU taught him to do. He locks them in the deepest part of his heart, and he keeps walking forward.

( _I’ll see you soon,_ Shisui said.)

The journey up the stairs and down the halls seems to take both forever and no time at all. They stop in front of the door, and the Third turns to look at him.

“Be gentle with him,” he says. “He’s been through a trauma.”

Itachi’s hands shake. He bites his tongue to stop himself from snapping at him. _Don’t tell me how to handle my own brother._

The Sandaime pushes the door open. Itachi steps inside, and before he can so much as blink—

“ _Nii-san_!”

He’s assaulted by a fifty-pound weight, a small, shaking body ramming into him. Itachi gasps, stumbling, and the Third steadies him before he can fall over.

There are arms wrapped tightly around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Small fingers dig into his back, trembling. Tears soak into his shirt.

Itachi’s eyes are wide. Sasuke’s head is buried against his chest, and he’s gasping, small whimpers escaping his lips. His entire body is shaking violently.

“Nii-san… _Nii-san_ …”

His arms are like steel circling around him. Pressed this close, Itachi feels every tremor that wracks through him. Itachi struggles to free his arms. Slowly, he wraps them around his brother’s shaking body.

Itachi didn’t think it was possible to hear his own heart break. But he hears it, then.

“Sasuke…” he whispers.

At the sound of his brother’s voice, a sob rips past Sasuke’s lips. “They’re d-d-dead! They’re all d-dead—Mother and Father— _Itachi_ …”

His words dissolve into broken sobs. The sound is like a hundred poisoned senbon to Itachi’s heart. He hugs his brother close, one hand on his back and the other against his head.

( _Take care of your baby brother_.)

He doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. He presses his lips against his brother’s hair, then rests his chin on the top of his head. He holds the trembling body close, as the tears soak into his vest.

Itachi doesn’t cry. He hasn’t cried since he was four.

_Remember, this is a battlefield._

* * *

Sasuke cries himself to sleep. Itachi sits with him on the bed, his feet folded beneath him, and doesn’t try to move, even when his legs begin to grow numb. Sasuke drops off against his thigh, and silence descends on the room.

Itachi looks up at the Sandaime, who hasn’t moved from the doorway of the room.

“What happened,” he says softly.

The Third Hokage looks at him, a heavy weight clinging to his body. He lowers himself into the chair by the bed, looking all of a hundred years old.

“I’m so sorry, child,” he says.

Itachi’s fingers are combing gently through his brother’s spiky hair. They pause, tangled in the dark locks, and his breath gets lodged in his throat. There’s a pressure on his chest that feels like it might crush him, and for a moment the pain is so encompassing that he can’t stand it.

( _Remember, this is a battlefield._ )

Itachi’s eyes are dry. The pain is like a sharp-toothed creature, gnawing at his insides, but he doesn’t cry.

“Shisui Uchiha was poisoned,” the Third tells him. “Your father found his body hours after it happened. Both of his eyes had been stolen.”

A wave of nausea crashes over him. Itachi closes his eyes and breathes through it.

“Who…” The question gets trapped in his throat, threatening to make him sick, and he simply repeats that single word. “…Who?”

The Sandaime’s lips press together. Something flickers in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says.

Itachi recognizes the answer for what it is immediately. _A lie._ He doesn’t even need to think about it; he knows exactly who the culprit is, exactly who the Third is protecting.

( _Be careful of Danzo,_ he warned Shisui before he left.)

Rage spreads through his veins, threatens to migrate to his eyes. He clamps down on it, his hand shaking against Sasuke’s back. He focuses on his brother’s slow breathing, _in_ _and out_ , and his emotions settle.

“He wasn’t able to use Kotoamatsukami,” Itachi realizes. The rest of the pieces fall into place after that.

“When your father found him,” the Sandaime explains, “he assumed that the Clan's plans had somehow been discovered. He knew that the Police Force had assigned Shisui to watch you, unaware that he had already aligned himself with us. And he knew that you had been sent on a mission only the day before, the timing of which he found suspicious.”

With good reason. The timing _was_ suspicious. Itachi’s hands trembled as he struggled to force away all thoughts of Shisui.

Shisui smiling at him across an open fire, the light of the flames dancing across his face. Shisui laughing at him, leaning down to ruffle his hair. _Shisui on the ground, his face bloody and his eyes gouged from his head—_

“Fearing whomever killed Shisui would use his eyes to stop the coup d'état, Fugaku moved up the attack. There was no more time to attempt negotiation. I was forced to send in a squad of ANBU Black Ops to quell the problem.”

( _I told you, don’t worry. I’ll see you soon._ )

Itachi’s mind catches on the memory, like a broken cassette tape. He tightens his jaw.

“And Sasuke?” he asks. He looks down at his exhausted brother, slumbering in his lap, and his heart constricts when he spots the slight tear tracks still on his cheeks. “You decided to spare him?”

The Sandaime doesn’t say anything. He looks down at the child sleeping halfway in Itachi’s lap, and a look of deep shame passes over his face. Itachi feels cold as the horrible truth sinks in, followed by a burst of outrage.

“You were going to _kill my brother_?”

Sasuke shifts slightly at the noise, making a small whimpering noise. Itachi’s head snaps down, and he bites the inside of his cheek, quickly reining in his emotions. He rubs his hand down Sasuke’s back, not looking away until he’s sure his brother is sleeping deeply.

Itachi looks up at the Sandaime. The tone he used with him wasn’t tempered; it was cold, like ice. It was also very disrespectful, and even now Itachi feels the instinctive urge to bow his head and apologize.

Itachi bites his tongue to hold the apology back. He presses his brother closer.

“Sasuke was not supposed to be there,” Sarutobi explains. “Which is why I didn’t issue any orders to spare him. But something went wrong, and your brother ended up being there during the attack. The mission parameters were to exterminate everyone. As far as the squad was aware, that included any children.”

Itachi’s indignant anger toward his Hokage cools when learning the man didn’t mean for Sasuke to get caught up in the slaughter. He bowed his head. A strand of hair falls loose from his ponytail, falling into his eyes.

“So how did he survive?”

“One of the ANBU members spotted him. Instead of killing him like they’d been ordered, they hid him away until the attack was over. Then they brought him to me.”

Itachi nods, swallowing down the wave of relief that crashes over him. He looks down at his brother, his head pillowed against his thigh, and he resists the urge to pull him closer, not wanting to wake him up.

 _You nearly died,_ he thinks, fingers shaking against the boy’s pale cheek. _What would I have done if…_

Even the thought is terrifying. He can’t think about it.

Itachi doesn’t ask who the ANBU member was, even though he wants to find them and fall down on his knees, thank them for saving his most precious person. ANBU identities are meant to remain secret; it’s likely the Third doesn’t even know the name of the person who was behind the mask.

“He wasn’t hurt?” Itachi asks. Sarutobi has already said he wasn’t, and his little brother appears unharmed, but he needs to be sure.

“Not physically. But…” the Sandaime hesitates, his eyes solemn as he glances down at the child. “… I don’t know what he witnessed. It’s been two days now, and he’s barely spoken. When you walked through the door… that’s the most I’ve heard him speak since it happened.”

Itachi’s heart clenches with worry. Being a member of ANBU, and living through some of the Third Shinobi War, he’s seen the effects of trauma up close. He knows how damaging it can be to the psyche to witness death up close—and his brother has always been so gentle, so innocent…

 _Oh Sasuke,_ he thinks, his heart heavy. _I’m so sorry._

He should have been there. He shouldn’t have left.

( _Dead dead dead they’re all dead—_ )

“Hokage-sama,” Itachi asks hesitantly. “Why wasn’t I there?”

The Third blinks. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand, Itachi-kun.”

Itachi suppresses a flinch. The last one to call him that was—

( _You’re too paranoid, Itachi-kun._ )

“The mission I was sent on,” he says. “It wasn’t a coincidence. Someone was trying to get me out of Konoha.”

The Sandaime looks at him for a moment, then he sighs. “Yes,” he admits, and Itachi isn’t surprised. “I gave your squad that mission on purpose.”

Itachi blinks. This he _is_ surprised by. He believed the culprit behind it to be Danzo—that he wanted Itachi out of the way in order to manipulate the situation with the Uchiha to his advantage. He didn’t expect it to be the Hokage.

“You?” he asks. “Why?”

 _If I had been there,_ Itachi thinks, hands shaking. He imagines Shisui, his eye sockets bloody and empty. _If I had been there, then maybe—maybe—_

The Third pauses for a long moment before answering, considering his words carefully.

“I noticed the way Danzo had been watching you. And I knew he didn’t agree with my decision to attempt negotiation before violence. I feared that he might approach you with a different solution—might appeal to your loyalty in order to convince you to agree.”

Itachi frowns. “Different solution?”

Sarutobi sighs heavily, looking suddenly very old. “To kill the Uchiha Clan yourself. To protect this village from the threat of war.”

Itachi stares at him with wide eyes. Numbly, he shakes his head. “I—I would never—”

“Not even to spare your little brother’s life?”

Itachi’s breath catches, and he feels himself go cold. Itachi knows the answer immediately, and the horror of it sinks into his bones.

He looks down at the fragile child in his lap, and the emotion in his heart is so deep that he forgets how to breathe.

_Yes. Without hesitation._

If it meant saving Sasuke, he would have slaughtered them all, and the realization makes him feel sick. For a moment, his surroundings go fuzzy. He feels dizzy.

_I would have killed them. Mother, Father, Izumi—_

Sarutobi’s voice pulls him back, anchors him back to the hospital room.

“I could not let you suffer such a choice,” he says. “So I made sure you were far away when the time came to take action.”

Itachi nods. He feels numb to the words, to the memories slipping through his head.

(His mother’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him into her arms. The scent of her lavender perfume. _It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to be strong all the time._ )

“I had no other choice,” the Sandaime says.

Itachi stares down at his brother. His fingers shake as he brushes his hair from his tear-stained cheek.

“I know,” he whispers.

* * *

He falls asleep in the hospital bed, Sasuke pressed against his side. He dreams of a sword in his hands and blood on his skin, his mother sobbing as he slashes through his parents' necks.

He wakes in a cold sweat, shaking violently. His brother is gone.

Itachi panics immediately. The spot on the bed next to him is cold, which means that Sasuke has been missing for a while now, and the door to the hospital room is ajar. Outside the window, the sky is dark, which means his brother is wandering somewhere in the middle of the night.

He takes off toward Hokage Tower, before realizing the Sandaime is most likely in bed. He changes direction, toward the Hokage’s residence.

His heart pounds loudly in his chest. Where is he? How did he just get up and walk out? How come nobody _stopped_ him?

He informs the night guards in front of the building of the situation. One of them quickly goes to form a search party for the missing child. The other one informs the Hokage.

Sarutobi emerges from the house, eyes sharp and alert. “What happened, Itachi-kun?”

“I don’t know,” Itachi responds, his voice uncharacteristically frantic. “I just woke up and he was gone. I don’t know where—"

The Sandaime places comforting hands on his shoulders. “Peace,” he says. “He cannot have gotten far. We will find him. Have you checked the compound? Perhaps he was half-asleep and stumbled back there.”

Itachi’s chest tightens at the possibility. He thinks about the empty Uchiha District, covered in crime tape. _Sasuke wouldn’t go there. Would he?_

He races through the darkened streets, taking the same path he took earlier that day. When he reaches the entrance to the complex, he stops in his tracks, his feet going cold.

He stares at the yellow crime tape, and he doesn’t move. He can’t seem to make himself go inside.

 _What’s wrong with me?_ he asks himself, continuing to stand there. _Just **move**._

In his mind's eye, he sees the usually lively compound completely empty. Completely silent. He sees the streets and buildings splattered with the blood of his kin, and he can’t get himself to move.

 _Move_ **,** he tells himself again, hating himself for his own fear. _Sasuke_ _could be inside. He’s the one who had to witness it. You weren’t even **there**._

Somehow, he forces his feet to move. He grips the yellow crime tape and raises it, ducking his head to enter.

His breath catches when he sees it. It’s not as bad as he imagined; the blood has been scrubbed away. But the deserted shops and broken windows make him feel like there’s no air in his lungs, and a wave of despair crashes over him, so strong it threatens to send him to his knees.

He shoves it down and doesn’t feel it. He shoves it down and shuts himself off.

He finds Sasuke in the parlor of their house, and his heart drops when he sees him. He’s sitting cross-legged on the wooden floor, a picture frame in his lap. He’s staring off into space, tears glinting on his cheeks.

And in the darkness, his eyes are blazing a blood-red.

The sight steals Itachi’s breath. _Sharingan._ _He awakened the Sharingan._

Itachi feels a deep ache in his chest. He always thought he’d be proud when his little brother awakened his eyes. But how can he be proud of _this_?

Itachi rushes to his brother’s side, falling to his knees next to him. “Sasuke.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond. His face is utterly vacant, his gaze distant and haunted. And Itachi feels something wrench inside him when he sees it, because he recognizes the expression. Recognizes it from the faces of countless shinobi, shattered and broken and pushed beyond their limits.

His little brother has the gaze of a soldier, and Itachi feels his hands start to shake.

( _Take care of your baby brother, alright?_ )

Itachi settles his hands gently on his brother’s bare arms. His skin is freezing in the chilly night air, and Itachi rubs his hands up and down, trying to bring his brother back.

“Sasuke? Sasuke, can you hear me? It’s Itachi…”

Sasuke doesn’t answer, continues to stare through him, his eyes still bright red. Itachi pulls the family photograph from his unresisting fingers, pushing his hair back from his face.

“Come on, I need you to hear me…”

Itachi takes Sasuke’s hand in his, interlacing their fingers and squeezing. Something sparks in the boy’s eyes, the smallest hint of awareness.

“Can you feel that? I’m right in front of you… just listen to my voice…”

It takes a few more minutes of coaxing, but slowly, Sasuke’s eyes begin to focus. The vacant expression gradually fades from his face. He looks at Itachi, his Sharingan still activated.

“Nii-san?” he finally whispers, his voice fragile and confused.

The single word floods Itachi with relief. He makes an attempt at a smile, brushing his brother’s hair behind his ear. “Yeah, Sasuke, it’s me. Are you with me now?”

Sasuke’s eyes dart around them, his expression lost. “How did I g-get here?”

Itachi feels a spike of alarm go through him. “You don’t remember walking here?”

Sasuke shakes his head, his eyes scared. He brings his hand up to his face, his fingers trembling. “Nii-san, my e-eyes…” His Sharingan glistens with tears. “I d-d-don't know how to t-turn them o-off…”

Itachi takes a breath and settles himself more firmly on the floor in front of him. This he feels comfortable with. This he knows how to deal with.

“Okay. You feel that pressure behind your eyes?”

Sasuke nods hesitantly, still trembling, and Itachi continues, “That’s your chakra being transmitted to your eyes through a special chakra pathway. It’s a pathway that only the Uchiha Clan possesses. You need to cut off the flow of chakra, and to do that you need to calm down. Do you think you can do that?”

Sasuke hesitates again, and then he nods. He closes his eyes, hiding the whirling tomoe from sight, and he takes slow, even breaths. Itachi can see him struggling to calm his racing heart.

After a little less than two minutes, he opens his eyes again. The red in them has disappeared, back to their usual black.

Itachi offers his brother an encouraging smile.

“There you go,” he says softly. He brushes his thumb gently beneath his brother’s eyes, brushing away his tears. “I knew you could do it.”

Sasuke sniffles. His head falls forward, his forehead against Itachi’s shoulder. “Nii-san, I’m tired,” he whispers.

Itachi’s heart breaks at the quiet exhaustion in his voice. He circles his brother with his arms.

“I know, otouto. I’ve got you.”

* * *

Itachi tells one of the ninja searching for Sasuke that he’s found him, trusting him to tell the Hokage. He hoists his exhausted brother up on his back, securing the boy’s arms around his neck, and then he carries him back to the hospital.

He expects Sasuke to drop off by the time they reach the room, but his eyes are still open when they get there. The both of them get on the bed, and Sasuke cuddles up to him, the way they used to when Itachi was younger.

Itachi is partially sitting up, Sasuke tucked against his side. He doesn’t hear his brother start crying, but he feels the tears soaking into his shirt.

“I don’t understand,” Sasuke whispers, his body shaking. “Why would they do this to us?”

Itachi frowns. He imagines ANBU members, shinobi of Konoha, breaking into the compound and slaughtering his clan. His heart twists.

“Sasuke, what did you see?” he asks.

Sasuke’s breath catches. He shakes his head, burying his face in Itachi’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Itachi says softly, running his fingers through his brother’s spiky hair. “That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it now.”

It’s silent for a moment, the sound of Sasuke’s shaky breathing filling the room, when Sasuke's hands tighten on his shirt.

“Don’t leave,” he says. “Please.”

Itachi looks down at his baby brother—so shattered and broken by the loss of their clan—and quite suddenly, Itachi hates their family. He hates them more than he’s ever hated anything, with every single bone in his body.

So obsessed with the _Clan_. So obsessed with _themselves_. Their selfish grab for power (his _father’s_ selfish grab for power) nearly brought another war down on their heads. Nearly cost Sasuke his life.

This is all _their_ fault.

He tightens his grip on his brother, holding him close.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Not ever again.”

( _Remember,_ his father said to him, surrounded by a mountain of corpses, _this is a battlefield._ )

As if he could ever forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know older brothers don't usually call their younger brothers "otouto", and usually just address them by their name. But Itachi does it a few times in the anime/manga, so I think it's okay if he uses it once here.
> 
> I think most of you can probably guess the identity of the ANBU member who saved Sasuke ;-)
> 
> Thank you for reading! The next part should be up soon. If you have the time, please leave a comment and tell me what you thought :)


	2. i felt a funeral in my brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, itachi's POV is actually going to be four chapters instead of three, because it turned out longer than I thought. This chapter was supposed to include a lot more scenes, but each scene I wrote turned out to be twice as long as I thought they were going to be in my head...

* * *

“I don’t want Sasuke living there,” Itachi tells the Third the next day, standing in the center of his office.

Sarutobi looks up from his desk, looking no less exhausted than he did yesterday. “Living where?”

“The compound,” Itachi answers, his mouth a thin line. He won’t budge on this.

He remembers Sasuke’s empty face, his eyes with their hundred-yard stare. Looking through him instead of at him. It’s a familiar look, and not one he ever wanted to see on his little brother’s face.

“When I found him last night… he was completely vacant. Like he wasn’t even there.” _Dissociation_ , Itachi’s mind helpfully supplies. _Very common response to trauma—_ “He can’t live there. I won’t let him. It’s not healthy.”

The Sandaime sets down his pen. He folds his hands in front of him, giving Itachi his full attention.

“You misunderstand me,” he says. “I have no intention of forcing Sasuke back into that house. Not after what he just endured.”

Itachi blinks, but before he can say anything else, the man continues, “Legally, your brother is old enough to make these types of decisions for himself. Had you not been here, and had he asked to continue living in the compound, then I would be obligated to let him.”

Itachi frowns at the thought of not being here for his brother. His mind once again flashes to what Danzo had planned for him, the images that haunted his sleep last night, that nearly came to pass, but the idea is so horrifying that he shies away from it immediately.

“Sasuke is old enough to manage his own affairs, should he have to,” the Sandaime says. “However, I’m assuming you would rather assume guardianship over him?”

Itachi straightens. “Yes. I would.”

It won’t be much of a change, anyway. Before he joined ANBU and began going on extended missions, he was already his brother’s primary caregiver. Father and Mother were never home.

(Too busy with the _clan_ to worry about their _son_.)

“Are you sure?” the Third asks. “He’s been through a lot. The both of you have. He’s going to need someone to be there for him. It’s a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”

If anything, the Sandaime’s words only reinforce Itachi’s feelings. Only make it that much clearer to him why he has to remain by his brother’s side.

“It’s nothing I haven’t already done. I’ve always taken care of Sasuke.” Sarutobi still looks uncertain, and Itachi looks him in the eyes. “I’m not a child, Hokage-sama. I haven’t been for a while.”

( _Remember, this is a battlefield._ )

The man looks at him for a long moment, then sighs. “No,” he says. “I suppose you’re not. I suppose I have myself to blame for that.”

Itachi opens his mouth to contradict him. It was his clan who did this, his _father_ who placed him in this position, who forced him to stare death in the face at the tender age of four.

Except that the village put him in this position too, placed a sword in his hands and taught him how to kill with it. And while he doesn’t blame them, knows they were only doing what needed to be done, that doesn’t make them any less responsible.

“You and Sasuke will be provided with an apartment to live in,” the Third tells him. “You can begin settling in there in a few days. Don’t worry about the money. After everything, it’s the least I can do for you.”

Itachi bows his head, his gaze on the wooden floorboards in front of him. “Thank you, Hokage-sama.”

He straightens back up. Assuming he is dismissed, he turns to leave through the door, but the Hokage calls out to him before his feet can complete their step.

“Itachi, wait. Speaking of responsibility, there’s something else I need to discuss with you.”

Itachi frowns as he turns back around, trying not to show how anxious he is to get back to his brother. Sasuke was still sleeping when he left, and Itachi doesn’t want him to wake up and panic when he isn’t there.

“I thought about waiting to bring this up,” the Sandaime says, a hesitance in his voice. “I know you have a lot to deal with, and I don’t want to add any more weight to your shoulders. But with the Uchiha dead, there are certain decisions that need to be made. Decisions which now fall to you.”

Itachi feels the feeling wash over him again—the feeling of denial, of avoidance. It makes his chest feel tight, his head feel too crowded.

“Your father was the Clan Head. With his death, the position now falls to you.”

Itachi doesn’t want to think about this. He _can’t_ think about this. He can’t think about the fact that his father is dead, that his parents are dead, because if he lets it sink into his brain, then he’s going to actually feel it. And he can’t let himself feel it, because then he’s going to break, and he isn’t allowed to break, because he has to take care of his brother.

But the Third won’t let him avoid it, won’t let him pretend it doesn’t exist. He keeps talking, uncaring that his words threaten to send Itachi spiraling.

His father is dead. His mother is dead. They’re not coming back, he’ll never see them again—

(He doesn’t even remember the last thing he said to them.)

“There needs to be decisions made regarding the Uchiha compound,” Sarutobi tells him. “Without you and Sasuke living there, the property is vacant. It’s up to you what happens to it. Then there is the matter of the Police Force. It will most likely be shut down, but you could also choose to keep it running, if you decide to allow other jounin from the village to join. Obviously, it can no longer be exclusive to just Uchiha.”

Itachi listens to this, and it shouldn’t be as overwhelming as it feels. He’s always known that he would take over for his father one day; Fugaku prepared him for it from the day he was able to walk. He knows what all his responsibilities will be, knows exactly what being Clan Head entails. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to handle it.

There’s _no reason_ for his hands to be shaking. _No reason_ for him to be feeling like this.

The Sandaime looks at him, and some of his near-panic must show on his face, because his expression immediately softens. “There’s no rush, Itachi. You have time to think about it. I don’t need an answer right now.”

Still feeling slightly like he’s fighting to keep his head above water, Itachi nods. “Thank you,” he says. “I just… I don’t know…”

“That’s okay,” the Third reassures him. “Take some time with your brother to figure everything out. And I’m putting you on leave. No missions. You can return to your duties whenever you feel ready.”

Itachi’s throat feels too tight to speak. He inclines his head. The Sandaime’s eyes are filled with a deep sorrow as he dismisses him, and Itachi leaves through the door, fighting past the heavy weight that feels like it’s crushing him.

* * *

He and Sasuke move into their new apartment three days later. Their belongings have been collected and brought over for them, so they don’t even have to step foot back into the compound.

Sasuke is quiet as they settle in. He’s always been quiet, but this is different, _more_. He clings to Itachi’s side like he’s afraid Itachi will disappear if he ventures more than five feet away. Itachi hates it, the haunted look in his eyes, the docile way he moves. His brother seems a shadow of the person he was when Itachi left him, and nothing he does seems to reach him.

“What do you think?” Itachi asks, glancing around the small apartment. “Think it’ll do?”

“It’s small,” Sasuke says, scuffing his feet on the floor.

Itachi presses his lips together. He feels off-balance and uncertain in a way that he’s never felt. “It’ll be a bit of an adjustment. But I don’t think we need a place too big, anyway. And the Third is paying for it personally—”

“I don’t want anything from _him_ ,” Sasuke says, and the sudden vitriol in his voice causes Itachi to look down at him sharply.

It’s the first real emotion that he’s shown in days, and the fact that it’s anger toward the Hokage is something Itachi finds more than a little concerning. Sasuke isn’t an angry person. He’s _never_ been an angry person.

And Itachi wonders, not for the first time, how much his little brother saw. How much he _knows_. He remembers Sasuke’s tears and the wobble in his voice as he asked _why would they do this to us_ , and he wonders what his brother was thinking when he saw Konoha shinobi slaughter their family. How has he puzzled it out in his head?

It’s been three days, and Itachi still hasn’t asked him exactly what happened. He doesn’t think Sasuke would answer him if he did.

But the sharpness in his expression is gone as soon as it appears. It’s replaced quickly by his previous despondence, and Itachi doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or relieved.

“I miss our old house,” Sasuke says quietly, and Itachi hears the words he doesn’t say. _I miss them._

 _I miss them, too,_ he wants to tell him. But he doesn’t say it, because it isn’t true. Itachi doesn’t miss them, because missing them would require thinking about them.

The proud edge to Father's smile. The soft affection in Izumi's eyes. Shisui’s head thrown back in laughter—

( _“I didn’t know you had a sense of humor!”_

_“It’s not a joke. I’m being serious…”_

_“Ha! That just makes it even funnier! You should write a book or something—”_

_“Dammit, Shisui—"_ )

Itachi digs his fingers into his palm, focusing on the sharp sting of pain. The memory dissipates.

He can’t think about them. He _won’t_. It’s the only way he knows he’ll make it through this.

They settle down for the night, and nothing feels right. Their belongings are all around them, but to Itachi, the apartment doesn’t feel like theirs. It’s too new, too different, too unfamiliar. There are no photographs on the walls; Itachi couldn’t bring himself to take them out of the boxes.

He’ll do it tomorrow, he tells himself. He’s too tired to do it today.

(He knows he won’t do it tomorrow. A week from now, those photographs will still be in their boxes.)

He puts Sasuke to bed, tucking him in and staying with him until he falls asleep, something he hasn’t done since his brother was five. Normally, Sasuke would push him away in embarrassment, complaining that he’s not a baby, but now he clings to Itachi like a lifeline, like he’s afraid he might drown if his brother moves out of sight.

Itachi retreats to the kitchen once Sasuke drifts off—the kitchen, which is cold and unlived-in, and nothing like their large dining room back home ( _what used to be home_ ). His head is so loud, his thoughts whirling and spinning and making it impossible to actually think. It’s been screaming at him for days now, hasn’t stopped since he dropped his katana on that bar floor and left his squad-mates in River Country.

He pours himself a glass of water and sits himself at the table. His hand is shaking slightly, and he curls his fingers into a fist, knuckles white against the marble surface.

The water tastes like ash going down his throat. He’s never been a fan of alcohol—he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel—but in this moment, he wishes desperately for something stronger.

His father took him out for his first drink, when he became ANBU. Eleven years old, eager to prove himself a grown-up. Mother hadn’t approved.

( _“You will take him to do no such thing, Fugaku! He is a child—"_

 _“He is a shinobi. If he is old enough to kill a man then he is old enough to have a drink—“_ )

A sharp pain pierces Itachi’s heart, and he clenches his teeth. He digs his nails into his palm, just like earlier, but this time, the sting of pain isn’t enough to distract him from the flood of memories.

They crash over him like a tidal wave, tightening in his chest. His father, guiding him through his first fire-style jutsu at the end of the dock. _That’s_ _my boy._ His mother pulling one of her swords from his too-small fingers, scolding him for his carelessness. _I told you, not until you’re older! You’ll poke your eye out!_

Izumi holding out her stick of dango for him to share, her cheeks dusted pink. Shisui’s face lit by the soft orange of the campfire, the flames dancing in his eyes—

 _Fuck._ Itachi hunches in his seat. His nails scrape against the edge of the table as he tries to breathe around the knife in his heart. _Shisui—_

They were supposed to keep them safe. _Together_. Both the village and the Uchiha. And instead—

_I’m sorry, Shisui. I failed you._

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. It could be ten minutes. It could be an hour. He digs his nails into his palms, tastes blood in his mouth. He hones in on the sharp sting, allowing it to push away the crushing grief in his chest.

When he picks up the glass in front of him, his hands are no longer shaking. His expression is once again composed.

( _Remember, this is a battlefield._ )

A scream pierces the apartment. Itachi startles violently, his calm disrupted just as he finds it. The glass of water is knocked to the floor.

_Sasuke._

Fear bursts to life in his chest, his heart leaping into his throat. He practically flies to his brother's bedroom, throwing open the door.

Sasuke is _thrashing_. Body twisting and limbs flailing, he fights against the sheets restraining him. And the way he’s _screaming_ … his screams are like jagged glass, razor-sharp with terror as they’re ripped from his throat.

Itachi’s heart stops. For a moment, he’s unable to move.

Because he’s never heard his brother sound like this. He’s never heard _anyone_ sound like this.

Sasuke’s had nightmares before. Awful things that leave him pale and whimpering, shaking in Itachi’s arms. But nothing like this, nothing that ripped such terrifying sounds from him—

Sasuke’s arms and legs are flailing, wrapped up in his bedsheets. He fights to tear himself free of them, wild and desperate—

_He’s going to hurt himself._

Itachi snaps quickly out of his shock, springing into action. In less than a second, he has his brother pinned—arms in his hands and legs beneath his knees.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says loudly. “Sasuke, wake up!”

Sasuke continues to thrash, struggling against Itachi as if trying to escape death. Itachi tightens his hold. He’s no doubt bruising his brother’s arms, but it’s the only way he can stop him from injuring himself.

Sasuke is still screaming, tears glinting on his cheeks in the darkness of the room. And Itachi realizes then that Sasuke’s eyes are _open_. His Sharingan is activated, the three tomoe in his eyes whirling, spinning, _transforming_ —

A six-pointed star forms in the center of his eyes. Itachi’s breath leaves him like a punch.

“ _No_!” Sasuke screams. Blood trails from his eyes. “ _No_!”

Itachi presses down on his arms. His heartbeat is loud in his ears, his pulse racing. Sasuke twists his head, his eyes bright and bleeding, and _that pattern_ —

“Sasuke! _Sasuke_!”

Itachi feels like sobbing. His own panic makes him dizzy. His brother is screaming, isn’t responding to him, and he _doesn’t know what to do_ —

(He wants his mother. Wants to run into her room so she can help him, help _Sasuke_ , because he doesn’t know what to do, but she will, she’ll know, he just has to get her and _it will all be okay_ —)

He has to handle this. He has to calm down. But he can’t do anything, he’s _useless_ , and all he can do is sit here holding Sasuke’s limbs in place—

( _His mother would know. She would know what to do._ )

Eventually, Sasuke settles. The screaming dies down and his muscles go lax. Hardly daring to breathe, Itachi lets his hands slip from Sasuke’s arms.

“Sasuke?” he whispers.

Sasuke’s eyes have slipped closed. Whatever visions tormented him seem to be gone. He sleeps peacefully.

* * *

The Mangekyou. His seven-year-old brother has the _Mangekyou_.

Itachi’s hands clench on the edge of the bathroom sink, his knuckles turning white. He closes his eyes, and he sees the unfamiliar pattern in his brother’s eyes: a black iris, a red six-pointed star in the middle.

His father’s words, from years ago, come back to him. _The Mangekyou is a higher level of the Sharingan only achieved under certain conditions. An Uchiha must be complicit in the death of the person closest to them—_

Itachi closes his eyes, his mind whirling. How is it possible for Sasuke to have it, then? Was his father wrong? But Shisui also claimed the same thing—so how can it be _possible_?

He couldn’t have awakened it tonight. He must have already had it. During the massacre? But Sasuke didn’t even have the ordinary Sharingan then… is it possible to unlock both in the same night?

Itachi doesn’t know. And he never _will_ know, because there’s no one left for him to ask.

 _God_. He can’t deal with this.

His brother is only _seven_. He’s seven years old, and he’s in possession of a power most Uchiha never achieve—a power that will one day, years from now, result in him going blind.

_Sasuke’s going to be blind._

Itachi falls to sit on the closed toilet. He rests his elbows on his knees, his face in his hands. His breathing is shaky.

He doesn’t cry. He thinks he’s forgotten how.

* * *

Sasuke doesn’t remember anything in the morning. Itachi doesn’t tell him.

* * *

Days pass. Itachi and Sasuke both struggle to settle into their new place—their new life.

It’s harder than Itachi expected it to be.

The apartment is small, two bedrooms with a kitchen and a living space. Completely unlike their old house, which often felt much too large and spacious for just four people. It’s an adjustment for Itachi, who is so used to having his own space, isn’t sure how to function without it, but he deals.

He has a brother to take care of—not that he didn’t before, but it’s different now that their parents are gone. He can’t just retreat from the world like he used to.

Sasuke doesn’t have anyone anymore. No one but Itachi.

The Sandaime has placed Itachi on indefinite leave. This is a good thing, because Sasuke needs him more than ever right now. Going on a mission right now is unthinkable. They need more time to adjust, to accept this new reality they’re living in.

Unfortunately, being taken off of active duty—or any kind of duty—leaves Itachi with way too much time to think. He knows Sasuke needs him, knows he can’t leave him alone so soon, but suddenly he has all this _time_ , and he _hates_ it.

(Hates it because he can’t stop thinking about them—their faces, their smiles, _the way their eyes must have looked when—_ )

Even worse, Sasuke’s horrible nightmare becomes a nightly occurrence. He screams and thrashes, and Itachi holds him down, waiting and praying for the moment his eyes slip closed and his struggling stops. Itachi doesn’t know what the incidents are, doesn’t know what’s causing them. But they scare the hell out of him, and he doesn’t know how to help.

Weeks pass and nothing changes. Itachi hardly gets any sleep.

He assumed it would be easy, taking care of his brother. He’s done it all his life, after all. It’s never been difficult. He’s never thought of it as a burden; he would have taken on the responsibility anyway, even if his mother hadn’t given it to him the moment she placed the bundle in his arms.

( _Take care of your baby brother, alright?_ )

As it turns out, there’s a big difference between watching out for someone and being their primary caregiver. Numerous times, he made it his duty to care for Sasuke. But he was still always a _brother_ , never a _parent_. Now he finds himself having to fill a different role, and he quickly finds that he’s not prepared for it.

Itachi, as it turns out, is not cut out for domestic work.

He’s a horrible cook. He learns this the second night in their new apartment, when he tries to make mapu tofu for dinner and the kitchen nearly catches fire. They end up having instant soba.

He messes up the laundry. He puts one of Mother’s gold-inlay plates in the microwave. He sets off the smoke alarm at least five times.

He’s a mess. Give him a weapon and a target to aim at, he’s golden. But give him everyday household chores, he fumbles like a child handling their first jutsu.

In different circumstances, Sasuke would probably find the situation amusing— _looks like I finally found something you’re not good at!_ —but there’s nothing amusing about this now, and these days Sasuke resembles a shadow more than he does a person.

The nightmares—if that’s what they can be called—only increase in frequency. The extreme clinginess has begun to abate, but now Sasuke has begun to retreat from him, which is worse.

They still haven’t talked about exactly what happened that night. Itachi keeps trying to bring up the subject, but the words keep getting trapped in his throat.

(They get trapped there because he doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to hear what happened, how they died, because hearing it will make it _real_ —)

It’s not all bad, of course. There are good moments—rare, brief, but they’re there. And ANBU has consumed Itachi’s life for so long, it’s nice to finally be able to spend time with his brother. Nice to be able to smile and say _sure_ , instead of poking him on the forehead and saying _next time_.

Sometimes, Sasuke almost smiles. And in those moments, Itachi lets himself hope that things might be okay.

* * *

“You’re adding too much soy sauce,” Sasuke says.

Itachi frowns, his gaze flickering behind him to his brother at the kitchen table. “I am not.”

“Are too. You’re only supposed to add a cup.”

“This _is_ a cup.”

“That’s way more than a cup.”

Itachi’s eyebrow twitches slightly, and he forces himself not to scowl. He pours some of the soy sauce from the measuring cup, holding it up for his brother’s inspection.

“There,” he says. “Is that better?”

The seven-year-old squints at the numbers on the side. He nods sagely.

Itachi returns to the saucepan on the stove, adding the soy sauce to it. He moves onto the sugar, measuring it meticulously and pushing down his aggravation.

 _It’s fine,_ he tells himself forcefully. _We’re going to have a nice dinner, and this time, I’m not going to burn anything or set anything on fire._

He turns on the stove, but accidentally twists the knob too far. The flames flare up too high, and Itachi hisses, jumping out of range.

Behind him, Sasuke sighs. “Just admit it, Nii-san. You can’t cook.”

Itachi presses his lips together, not looking at him. “I can _so_.”

“It’s okay, Nii-san, really,” he says. “We can just have cold soba again.”

Itachi is so, so _sick_ of soba. He knows Sasuke is, too, even if he’s too nice to say anything.

“No,” Itachi says, adding the sake to the ingredients in the pan. “We’re going to have an actual meal, and you’re going to like it. You’ll see.”

He goes to pour the mirin into the pan—

“No, not the mirin! Mother always substitutes it with vermouth and sugar!”

And Itachi, despite what a lot of people seem to believe, isn’t perfect. This is the fourth time Sasuke has corrected him, and he’s not even done with the first part of the meal. He loses his patience.

“Fine,” he snaps, banging the measuring cup down on the counter with more force than necessary. “You do it then, if you’re such an expert!”

He feels guilty immediately. It’s been a while since his brother has made him annoyed enough to snap, and he knows it’s not Sasuke’s fault. He’s just so _tired_ , and he can’t even make simple sukiyaki sauce, and it’s making him irritable.

Sasuke doesn’t look hurt. Instead, with a put-upon sigh that sounds much too exasperated to come from a seven-year-old, he stands from the table and leaves the room. He comes back with a stool.

“Move,” he says, elbowing Itachi aside and placing the stool on the ground where he was standing.

Itachi steps back. He blinks, watching in shock as his little brother easily takes up the task, only with much more ease.

He moves as if he’s done this a thousand times, quick and efficient. He adds the remaining two ingredients to the saucepan, and he lowers the power of the stove. He mixes the sauce together and leaves it to boil, then goes to the refrigerator to retrieve the frozen noodles. He puts them in a different pan, leaving them to boil on the opposite burner. Then he begins slicing up the vegetables.

Itachi moves to stand next to him, his gaze on the knife in Sasuke’s hand as he cuts the cabbage. “You’re good at this.”

His surprise is obvious. Sasuke glances over at him briefly, before returning his eyes to the cutting board.

“Mother taught me. She said you’ve always been hopeless, so she taught me instead. We cook together all the time.”

The knife Sasuke’s holding freezes briefly, as Sasuke realizes his mistake in using the present tense. His face becomes pinched, a shadow passing over his face.

Itachi’s heart twists, but he doesn’t call attention to the slip. “When was this? I don’t remember it.”

“It was when you were on missions,” Sasuke says. “You’re always gone for so long, and… I miss you. Mom always tried to cheer me up. We would hang out until you came home.”

Itachi looks down, feeling regret in his chest. Living with his brother, taking time off from ANBU, is really highlighting how much of Sasuke’s life he missed before. All those times he took off on a mission that lasted weeks, all those times he promised Sasuke they would hang out later, only to break that promise for another mission…

He should have taken the time. He’s a shinobi, but he’s also a _brother_. He should have made the latter more important than the former.

“So what did you guys do?” Itachi asks. “Just cooked?”

“Mostly.” Sasuke’s moved on to cutting up the tofu now. “Sometimes we hung out in the dojo and she showed me all these cool sword moves. She even let me hold the sword once.”

There’s a soft smile on Sasuke’s face. Itachi’s heart hurts just looking at it.

He’s so angry at their mother. Angry at her for going along with Fugaku's plans, for not trying to dissuade him. This is the woman who tried to help her husband overthrow the Hokage, who plotted against her own village. This is the woman who was part of the cause of the Uchiha Clan’s downfall.

But this is also the woman who bandaged his cuts after training, who sat with him when he was sick, wiping the sweat from his brow. The woman who held him close after he awakened his Sharingan, after his genin team died. _It’s okay, sweetheart. Even shinobi cry sometimes—_

Itachi closes his eyes for a moment. Sometimes, his own inner conflict makes it difficult to breathe.

He turns to his brother. “Do you want to use a sword when you’re older?” he asks. “I'm not as good as Mother was, but I can still try to teach you.”

Sasuke drops the knife. He looks at him with wide eyes. “Really? You mean it?”

“Sure. If you really want to. Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it? We can get you a sword—”

Itachi is unprepared for the hug he receives. Sasuke throws his arms around Itachi’s neck, and the impact is nearly enough to knock him over.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Itachi is stunned for a moment, unable to move. It’s the most emotion he’s witnessed from his brother in two weeks, and the unbridled _joy_ in his voice is enough to steal his breath.

He had forgotten what a smile sounded like in Sasuke’s voice.

Itachi slowly brings up his arms, hugging his brother back. A smile lingers at the corners of his lips—the first one since he came home.

Sasuke finishes up the sukiyaki himself, with Itachi supervising. He serves the two of them, and they sit down at the table to eat.

“Wow,” Itachi says, after tasting it. “Sasuke, this is amazing. Maybe you should do the cooking from now on, huh? Less fire hazards.”

Sasuke doesn’t respond to the jest. He’s looking down at his food, his previous lightheartedness wiped from his face. He looks crushed—possibly even on the verge of tears.

Itachi frowns. “Sasuke? What’s wrong?”

Sasuke stares down at the food he cooked sadly.

“It doesn’t taste the same as Mother’s,” he says.

Itachi feels something twist inside him. With another despondent look at his dinner, Sasuke pushes his chair back. He retreats to his room without another word.

* * *

The good moments are there— _a brief smile, a flash of happiness_ —but they’re few and far between. The shadow of grief is always lurking, waiting to cover them like a shroud.

* * *

There’s a conversation that Itachi has been putting off for far too long. The night before Sasuke returns to the Academy, Itachi finally sits him down on the couch to have it.

They haven’t talked about the massacre. Itachi knows they need to, that Sasuke needs to know _why_ their clan was killed, _why_ they were slaughtered by shinobi who were meant to be comrades-in-arms. Itachi knows the villagers have been talking about it, scorning the Uchiha for their betrayal.

Sasuke’s going to hear all about it once he returns to the Academy. Itachi needs to be sure that he hears it from him first.

So, Itachi sits him down and explains. He begins to talk about the coup d’etàt, their father’s plans, the reasons why this could not be allowed to pass…

He’s surprised when Sasuke interrupts him, only a few minutes in.

“I already know all of this. Sandaime-sama already explained it to me.”

Surprise flashes through him. “You—he told you about it?”

Sasuke nods. He stares down at his hands on his knees.

Itachi supposes it makes sense. Sasuke was in the hospital for two whole days before Itachi arrived back in the village. It’s logical for the Third to have spoken to him during that time. Still, the way Sasuke spoke to him… he assumed his brother was still in the dark.

Itachi thinks back to Sasuke crying against his chest, voice fragile as he asked, _why would they do this to us._ He remembers the anger in Sasuke’s voice, when Itachi mentioned the apartment was being paid for by the Hokage. _I don’t want anything from **him**._

And Itachi wonders if Sasuke even understands what he was told. It’s a complex situation, after all, and it would be difficult for a seven-year-old to be able to comprehend it.

Sasuke knows. But he still doesn’t truly _understand_. He can’t see the massacre for the only choice that there was—he doesn’t understand it the way Itachi does.

Sasuke’s never witnessed a war. But Itachi has. He knows what it takes from people.

“Were you a part of it?” Sasuke asks. “The coup?”

Itachi blinks at the question. It seems the Hokage didn’t tell Sasuke everything, then. He told him about the general situation, but it appears he emitted Itachi’s involvement.

 _Why?_ Itachi wonders. Did he do it simply because he thought it would be better for Sasuke to hear it from Itachi? Or does he not want Sasuke to know?

“No,” Itachi answers. “I wasn’t a part of it.”

“Oh.” Sasuke is silent, looking down at his knees, before asking, “Did you know about it?”

Itachi pauses, feeling cold. Because _did you know about it_ is a completely different question from _were you a part of it_ , one with an answer completely different.

“No,” he lies.

He knows the moment the word leaves his lips that it’s probably a mistake—that he’s probably going to end up regretting it later—but the answer is out there now. It’s no use to take back.

“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t know about it.”

Sasuke stares down at his hands in front of him for a long moment. His face is unreadable, his eyes swirling with a thousand different thoughts that are impossible to understand.

“I’m tired,” he says finally, in a blank voice. “Can I go to bed now?”

Itachi is so startled by the non-reaction, he says yes without thinking about it. By the time it occurs to him to call him back— _we need to talk about this, are you okay, what are you thinking right now—_ Sasuke is already closing his bedroom door.

Itachi sits on that couch for a long time, certain he’s screwing up and with no idea how to do better.

He wishes his mother was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> itachi continues to ignore his own feelings in this chapter. Also, that lie is definitely going to come back and bite him.
> 
> Poor Itachi, though. The kid is only thirteen. He has no idea how to raise a traumatized child by himself :(


	3. trying to choke down the feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long!

* * *

The morning Sasuke returns to the Academy is also the day Itachi returns to ANBU.

Not active duty, of course. It's still way too soon to leave Sasuke by himself while he takes off on a mission. But the majority of ANBU are stationed within the village anyway, and it's been over a month now. It's time for him to resume his life.

The world hasn't stopped just because his family is dead. It's still turning. And he has responsibilities.

"I won't be leaving on any missions," Itachi says, sitting down at the table for breakfast that morning. "They'll make me go through a few days of training, to make sure none of my skills have rusted. After that, I'll most likely be placed on guard duty."

Sasuke stares down at his yogurt, poking it with his spoon. He hasn't said a word since waking up, other than muttering a quiet _morning_.

Itachi frowns at the silence. His body feels heavy today, made of lead. Sasuke had another of his violent nightmares last night, and once he finally went quiet, Itachi wasn't able to fall back asleep. He spent the rest of the night staring up at the ceiling.

He doesn't remember the last time he's actually slept. He doesn't even feel tired anymore; he's pushed past that point.

"I probably won't need to be there long today," he continues, "so I can pick you up from the Academy, and we can talk to your instructors about what you missed—"

"I can talk to them myself," Sasuke mutters, still not looking up, "and I don't need you to walk me home."

There's no inflection in the words, but Itachi feels them like a senbon. He swallows past it. "I should talk to them myself. It's been a while since you've been there, and you never know—"

"I'm not a child, Nii-san."

Itachi frowns. "I never said you were."

Silence descends again. Itachi watches his little brother with troubled eyes. His own breakfast tastes like cardboard.

"Sasuke," he says finally, the quiet growing unbearable, "Do we need to talk about last night? About what I told you?"

Sasuke's hand freezes slightly as he brings the spoon to his mouth. "Talk about what?" he asks. He still doesn't look at Itachi. "I told you, I already know."

Itachi bites the inside of his cheek. "I know, but…" He pauses, unsure on how to bring up the subject. He recalls the unique pattern in Sasuke's eyes, spelling out a deep grief.

_Mangekyou._

"I know we haven't talked about… exactly what happened that night," he begins haltingly. "And that's my fault. But if you ever need to… talk about it…"

Sasuke's body tensed the moment the words _that night_ left Itachi's lips. His spoon clatters against his bowl, and he pushes his chair back abruptly.

"I need to go," he says, turning toward the sink. "I'm gonna be late."

Itachi blinks. A glance at the clock tells him that his brother is right—his class begins in fifteen minutes. Itachi starts to get up, already pinning his mask to his belt.

"Hold on. I can walk you—"

"That's okay," Sasuke says. He brushes past Itachi, sliding his shoes on. "But thanks. Have a good day, Nii-san."

He's out the door before Itachi can speak. Itachi stares at the door, and something inside him cracks. Something inside him reaches out, desperate to stop him from slipping away.

Desperate to stop him from leaving, just like everyone else.

* * *

Itachi enters the ANBU barracks with a straightened spine, his features guarded. Sharp eyes land on him as he passes, their expressions full of contempt and distrust.

Itachi keeps his face blank under the intense scrutiny. He is used to it from the villagers, and though it hurts a bit more coming from people meant to be comrades-in-arms, he won't let it show.

They whisper as he walks by, knowing he can hear them but simply not caring.

"I can't believe he's actually showing his face here… after what his clan tried to pull…"

"Uchiha… I always knew they couldn't be trusted… he should've been killed with the rest of them…"

"Bunch of traitors… him and that kid brother of his…"

Itachi feels himself tense slightly at the last whisper, but forces himself not to react. Their hostility is to be expected. All he can do is turn his head to it.

Itachi wonders if Sasuke is experiencing the same from his classmates at the Academy. He hopes not. Sasuke is the only one innocent in all of this.

(He realizes that any of the faces he passes could be one of the ones who killed his family. He's trying not to think about it.)

"Taichou! You're back!"

Itachi turns at the call. There's a flash of black hair and pale skin, and Itachi's heart leaps, for a moment thinking _mother—_

The image shatters, falling apart like a broken genjutsu, and Uma's face replaces Mikoto's. A wave of grief crashes over him, nearly enough to bring him to his knees, and he curses himself for his foolishness.

Uma smiles down at him brightly, with her long dark hair and porcelain skin. But her eyes are lighter than his mother's, her cheekbones more refined. Her face is smoother, _younger_ , and there's a light scar near the end of her right eyebrow.

Not his mother. Just his tired mind playing tricks.

( _Have fun! But make sure you're home by dinner, okay?_ )

For a moment, Itachi can't breathe. There's a tightness in his chest that he can't explain.

Arms reach out to him. Itachi snaps out it, barely dodging his squad-mate as she attempts to grab him in a hug.

"We heard all about what happened," she says. "Oh, it's so horrible! How are you? No, wait, that's a stupid question—"

Itachi looks past Uma, to the rest of his squad standing behind her. He prepares for their glares, their hostility, but is surprised to find concern in their eyes instead of distrust.

"Stop smothering the captain, Uma," Nezumi says. He grabs the tittering woman by the shoulder, pulling her back. He claps a hand on Itachi's shoulder. "Good to have you back, Taichou. We've been worried."

"We would have come to see how you were doing," Hyō tells him, "but we didn't know where you were living now."

Itachi is speechless for a moment. This is not the type of reception he was expecting.

"That's okay," he finally manages. "I didn't expect you to visit."

He can see the relief in their eyes. They are glad to see him, were truly worried about him, and it leaves him stunned. They know of the Uchiha's foiled coup, his family's betrayal, and yet, they aren't looking at him any differently. There is no distrust in their eyes—only honest concern.

They are speaking to him the way a unit speaks to their captain. Their superior. And for a fraction of a second, Itachi has never felt more grateful.

(They aren't even mentioning how he abandoned them in Tanigakure.)

"But thank you," he tells them. "It means a lot."

Uma's smile is like the sun, and Itachi is reminded painfully of his mother once again. He looks away from her, his eyes seeking the fourth member of his squad.

"Where is Tanuki?" he asks.

Uma's smile becomes slightly fixed. The three shinobi trade looks, and Itachi feels suddenly like a child among adults, not privy to their information.

"He… isn't on the squad anymore," Hyō answers reluctantly. "He requested a transfer."

Itachi presses his lips together. "I see."

He doesn't need to ask why Tanuki requested the transfer. He can see it in the way his squad avoids his eyes. Tanuki no longer trusts him enough to fight beside him in the field. Not when his entire clan proved themselves to be traitors.

No longer trusts him to have his back when there's a chance he could put a knife in it.

"We don't feel the same way he does, Taichou," Hyō says. "We trust you. We know you aren't like the rest of them."

 _Them._ A sudden wrongness strikes him when he hears this. How easily they label him as being outside of the Uchiha—as being separate.

He is not guilty to them, is not untrustworthy. Because to them he is ANBU, not an Uchiha. They treat the two as mutually exclusive, as if being one means that he isn't the other. But their blood runs in his veins, regardless of the fact that he did not stand with them.

They are wrong. He _is_ a traitor. But instead of betraying his village, he betrayed his clan.

The Uchiha were wrong, were _guilty_. Itachi knows this. Yet still, there's a small part of him that whispers, _did they really have to die? Was there really no other way?_

Itachi shuts those thoughts away. They are all dead. It is meaningless now.

* * *

After speaking to the Commander, Itachi spends the day training, sharpening his skills that have dulled from a month away.

His body is tired, weighed down. Pushed to its limits by the countless nights spent staring up at the ceiling, spent shaking Sasuke awake from nightmares. He's _exhausted_.

He ignores it.

He grips four kunai in each of his hands, held securely between each of his fingers. He crouches down on the ground, closes his eyes.

He _leaps_.

It's been over a month since he's held a weapon in his hand, but the cold metal against his palm still feels natural. He flips in the air, and the movements are like walking, like _breathing_.

Itachi never wanted to fight. But he was born for it, nonetheless.

( _Remember, this is a battlefield._ )

He crosses his arms in front of him, feeling the wind on his face. He remembers his father teaching him this technique. He remembers promising to teach it to Sasuke.

( _"I have an important mission tomorrow. Some other time, okay?"_

" _But Nii-san, you promised!"_ )

He doesn't open his eyes, keeping them closed. He flings the eight kunai expertly, listening to the clang of metal as the blades bounce off each other.

Only five of them hit their target.

Itachi lands back on the ground, a frown pulling at his lips. There's a cut on his finger from where one of his kunai slipped when he threw it. He sticks it in his mouth to stem the bleeding.

He stares at the three targets the kunai didn't hit. His vision seems to blur for a moment, and he shakes his head to clear it.

 _Stop it,_ he tells himself. _Focus._

God, he's just so _tired_. He didn't know it was even _possible_ for a person to be this tired.

As a member of ANBU, he's been trained to push through exhaustion when needed. But every shinobi knows the importance of sleep, and an operative who isn't getting it will be treated the same way as one with a broken leg. As unfit for duty.

Worse than that—if he keeps going on like this, it won't be long before the Commander notices and slaps him with a mandatory psych eval. One that he's not sure he would pass.

(One that he _knows_ he won't pass—not when he can't stop hearing their voices in his head.)

Slowly, once he's sure he can walk without stumbling, he moves to collect the scattered weapons. A dull ache is developing behind his eyes, the beginnings of what promises to be a nasty headache.

The world seems to tilt for a moment, going sideways. Itachi stumbles slightly. Reluctantly, he allows himself to sit down against a nearby tree.

Itachi doesn't know what to do with himself. He feels like he's spending his every moment trying to keep himself stitched together.

It's too much. _Everything_ is too much.

He still hasn't decided whether or not he wants the position of Clan Head. He hasn't even thought about it. He hasn't made any decisions regarding their old compound or the Police Force, either.

The Sandaime told him there was no rush. But it's been over a month now, surely he expects an answer?

Itachi closes his eyes, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree at his back.

Sasuke's nightmares haven't stopped. If anything, they've gotten worse, and Itachi doesn't know how to handle them. Doesn't know how to handle it when he sees the black-and-red pattern in his eyes, blood staining his cheeks.

His little brother has the Mangekyou, and Itachi is terrified, so _terrified_ , that someone will find out.

With the Mangekyou in his possession, Sasuke would be considered a military asset. He would become a victim of people who wished to exploit him for his abilities, people who wished to make him into a weapon.

People like the elders. People like Danzo.

The thought of Danzo causes Itachi's fists to tighten. He's been trying not to think of the man who killed their chance at a peaceful resolution. The man whom the Sandaime is protecting.

The Sandaime has made many questionable choices, but Itachi does not cast blame on him, because he has always understood them to be the only option available. But this decision Itachi cannot understand, will _never_ understand, because this is the man who _murdered his best friend_ —

If Danzo Shimura goes near his brother, then Itachi will kill him.

He thinks of the images he sees in his dreams—the sword in his hands and their bodies at his feet. The blood soaking into the floorboards.

( _Not even to spare your little brother's life?_ )

Itachi's insides are cold. His hands shake. For a moment, he swears he can feel blood soaking his skin.

It scares him sometimes—how deeply he loves. The things he's willing to do because of it.

He scares himself.

( _Love is dangerous for an Uchiha,_ Shisui told him once. _It leaves no room for anything else._ )

* * *

Itachi arrives at the Academy just as class is letting out. Children rush out the doors, smiling and laughing with each other. Itachi leans against the fence, waiting to spot his brother.

Sasuke is walking alone.

The other kids give him a berth of space, as if there's an invisible barrier erected around him. None of them seem willing to breach it, to try and step closer. Instead they shoot him furtive glances, turning to whisper to their friends.

Itachi isn't in earshot to know what they're saying, but he doesn't need to be. He hears the same whispers walking down the street.

_Traitor. Slaughtered. Always knew that clan was no good—_

Itachi's jaw clenches. His fingers curl into his palms.

There's another kid also by himself. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The jinchuuriki. He's also watching Sasuke, but it isn't like the others. There's something different in his eyes.

Sasuke reaches him, and it's proof of how much things have changed when he doesn't throw his arms around Itachi's waist and start chattering about his day.

"Hey," he says quietly, directing his gaze at the ground.

"Hey," Itachi responds. "How was your day? Did it go okay?"

Sasuke shrugs. "It was fine. I'm behind on a lot, though. My teacher wants to talk to you."

Itachi blinks at this and nods. "Okay. Did you want to come with me?"

"I can wait here."

Itachi frowns, but doesn't argue. He pushes off the fence he's leaning against. "Okay, stay here then."

"I can walk to the apartment myself—"

"Stay here," Itachi repeats.

Sasuke huffs. " _Fine_. Hurry up, then."

Itachi shakes his head at the attitude, passing his brother as he reaches the Academy doors. He enters the building, and he's hit with an immediate feeling of nostalgia. He's suddenly seven again, walking to his classroom and waiting for the lesson to start.

It's an eerie feeling, like walking in his own shadow. He shakes it off.

The man in the classroom isn't the one Itachi remembers—not the one who taught him. He's younger—not any older than eighteen. When he looks up to see Itachi, surprise flashes across his face.

"My brother said you wanted to speak with me," Itachi says, stepping further into the room. "Sasuke Uchiha?"

The man quickly collects himself, recovering from his surprise. "Yes," he says. "Forgive me, I just—Sasuke told me his older brother was looking after him now. I just wasn't expecting you to be so…"

 _Young,_ Itachi supplies, but the rest of the sentence goes unsaid. The man clears his throat.

"Anyway, I'm Iruka. I don't think we've met."

They haven't. It's been nearly four months since Itachi's been able to spare the time to pick Sasuke up from the Academy, and Daikoku-sensei had still been the instructor then.

"You're a bit young to be a teacher," Itachi notes.

Iruka glances pointedly at the tattoo on Itachi's left shoulder. "You're a bit young to be ANBU."

Okay, that's fair.

"Sasuke said you wanted to talk," he says. "Is something wrong?"

Iruka sits up straighter behind his desk. "I wouldn't say that something is wrong," he replies. "But your brother has been missing from class for a month. We covered a lot of material in that time, and I'm concerned he might have trouble catching up."

"Sasuke's a smart kid," Itachi says.

Iruka smiles slightly. "Yes, I noticed. He seems to be a grade above most of his peers, and he picks things up very quickly. But it can still be very overwhelming, and in class today he seemed… less than engaged."

Itachi frowns. He knows exactly what he means. Lately, Sasuke's been less engaged when it comes to everything. Nothing seems to ignite a spark in his eyes anymore.

"I tried to reach out to him today," Iruka continues, "but I've only known him a few months, so I don't know him too well. I don't think he'll let me help him."

Itachi sighs. Sasuke's unwillingness to let other people help him isn't a new trait. He's always been nervous and quiet—a result of growing up in Itachi's shadow, of never feeling like he's good enough. With the loss of their parents, this has only increased.

"I can help him," Itachi says. "I'll get him caught up."

He doesn't know when he'll find the time, but he'll do it somehow.

( _Father never would have bothered._ )

Iruka nods. "I'm glad to hear it. Though I won't deny that I'm still concerned. I don't mean to pry into things, but Sasuke is my student, so I do worry about him. I know this past month must have been extremely difficult for both of you…"

Itachi stiffens. "We're handling it," he says coldly.

A bit _too_ coldly, and he has to conceal a wince at the ice in his own voice. He doesn't mean to come off so uncivil, but he doesn't want to discuss the subject.

"Of course," Iruka responds. "I didn't mean any offense. I just meant… if there's anything you needed, I'm here to help."

Itachi clenches his jaw. The offer is kind and sincere, and it causes Itachi's hands to shake.

It grates on him. That this man, only a few years older than Itachi himself, looks at him and considers him to be a kid. It annoys him that this man is worried—that he thinks Itachi might not be capable of taking care of his brother.

It annoys him even more that he is _right_.

_I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him—_

He bites down on his irritation, on his pride, and lets himself actually consider the words. He lets himself acknowledge the helping hand that is being offered, instead of immediately dismissing it.

Because he _is_ struggling. He just doesn't want to admit it.

"Actually," he says unsurely, "There is something…"

Iruka straightens, clearly happy to be of any help. "What is it?"

Reluctantly, Itachi explains about his brother's nightmares. He leaves out any mention of the Mangekyou, but he describes the way his brother screams, the way he thrashes. He explains the way his eyes are wide open the entire time, the way he stares at him without even seeing him. The way he never seems to remember what happened in the morning.

"I don't know what to do," Itachi admits.

Iruka's expression is thoughtful. "I'm no expert," he says, "but what you're describing to me sounds like a night terror."

Itachi frowns. "Night terror?" he echoes.

"They're really common in young children—toddlers, mostly—but older kids can get them too sometimes. Has he ever had any before this?"

Itachi shakes his head. "No. Never."

Iruka sighs. "Well, like I said, I'm no expert. But if he hasn't had any before now, then it's not likely that they're naturally occurring. They could just be a result of stress or a lack of sleep, but they could also be a result of trauma."

Itachi flashes back to Sasuke sitting on the floor of the compound, staring at him with vacant eyes. He's willing to bet that it's the last one.

"Have you tried talking to him about what happened?" Iruka asks.

Itachi winces, an image of the bloody streets flashing in front of his eyes. He shakes his head.

"You should try," Iruka says. "I think it would help him to talk about it. I think he needs to."

Itachi feels vaguely sick to his stomach. He nods and gives his thanks, bidding the man goodbye before he can notice how badly Itachi's hands are shaking.

Broken windows. Bloody floorboards. A cracked photograph, clutched by tiny fingers.

( _Why would they do this to us?_ )

When Itachi exits the Academy, Sasuke is talking to the jinchuuriki near the swing. Itachi blinks in surprise, walking over to him.

"Come on, Sasuke," he says. "It's time to go."

The blonde boy's face falls for a moment, but then his disappointment is covered by a wide grin. "See you tomorrow, Sasuke!" he says. "I'm totally going to beat you then, just wait and see!"

Sasuke scoffs. "In your dreams, loser."

He walks over to Itachi, falling into step beside him. Once they're a good distance away, Itachi cuffs him on the back of the head.

"Ow! Nii-san, _why_?!"

"Don't call people losers," he chides. "It's rude."

"He started it! You should've heard some of the things he was calling me—"

Itachi thinks about that lonely boy on the swing, about the monster that he holds inside him—a monster that the Uchiha were suspected in releasing. He thinks about how suspicious it would look for an Uchiha to associate with the Kyuubi.

He thinks about warning his brother away. _Stay away from Naruto Uzumaki. Please, Sasuke._

Instead, Itachi smiles. "It's nice to see you making friends," he says.

Sasuke rolls his eyes. "He's not my friend, he's an idiot."

* * *

He tries to talk to Sasuke. He really does. But he can never seem to find the _time_.

ANBU takes immediate advantage of having him back. They begin cracking down on him immediately. He still isn't back with his squad, because he still isn't taking any missions outside the village, but that doesn't stop the Commander from filling up his day.

Sasuke's just as busy with his schoolwork as Itachi is with his duties. When he isn't buried in his textbooks or scribbling away at the table, he's outside training, working himself to the point where Itachi often has to force him back inside.

 _Take a break,_ he often chides him, prying his kunai from his fingers. _You're doing more than fine, there's no need to work yourself so hard._

It's a lost effort. It doesn't matter how long or how often he trains, Sasuke will always believe he needs to be better.

It's a couple days after his conversation with Iruka when his brother has another nightmare. Itachi is woken in his own bedroom by the screams, a familiar sound by now, and he throws back his sheets. He darts quickly from his room, into the one next to him.

"No! _No_!"

Itachi flinches at the screams, but he pins his brother down. Sasuke twists and thrashes in his grip, his eyes the color of blood. He screams and screams and _screams_ , and Itachi presses him against the mattress, waiting for him to tire himself out. Waiting for it to end, and for his eyes to slip closed again.

There's nothing more that he can ever do.

"No! No, no, no, _Kaa-san_!"

The air is kicked from Itachi's lungs. He can't breathe. His chest _hurts._

"No! Kaa-san! _Kaa-san_!"

Itachi closes his eyes and breathes through the memories. He opens them again, tightening his grip on Sasuke's arms.

"No," Sasuke whispers, his voice finally dying down. "No. No."

The six-pointed star shines brightly in his eyes. It steals Itachi's breath every time he sees it. It doesn't belong there. It shouldn't exist.

 _What happened?_ Itachi dares to wonder. _What happened, Sasuke?_

The struggling finally stops. Sasuke's head falls to the side, his breathing evening out. Itachi releases his arms as his Sharingan fades.

Itachi expects Sasuke to drift right off, the way he does usually. But he doesn't this time. He blinks slowly, his eyes hazy and confused.

"Nii‐san?" he whispers.

Itachi startles slightly, blinking. Sasuke is sitting himself up, looking bleary and exhausted. He rubs at his eyes.

"What are you doing in here?" he asks. The question is punctuated by a small yawn.

"You were having a nightmare," Itachi tells him. "You were screaming. You don't remember?"

Sasuke shakes his head. "No." He reaches up to rub one of his arms. "My arms hurt."

Itachi winces, remembering the vise-like grip he had on them. "Sorry. I had to pin you down, or you would have hurt yourself."

"You _bruised_ me."

"Sorry," he repeats.

They sit like that in the dark for a few moments, Sasuke rubbing at his arms and Itachi watching him. He realizes, then, that this can't go on. He can't keep holding Sasuke down every night, hoping these nightmares— _night terrors_ —will simply fade away on their own. They can't go on like this. Iruka was right. They need to _talk_.

And not just because of the night terrors. Itachi needs to know what happened that night—the night they died. He needs to hear it, and Sasuke needs to say it.

Itachi stands from the bed. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchen. We need to talk."

"Now?" Sasuke darts a look at the clock by his bed. The numbers _1:27_ blink back at him. "I have school tomorrow."

"I don't care," Itachi says. "This is more important."

Sasuke looks at him for a moment in confusion, before getting up from the bed. The two of them migrate to the living room, which opens up into the kitchen. Sasuke sits himself on the couch.

"Do you want something to drink?" Itachi asks him.

"Coffee?" Sasuke says hopefully.

Itachi gives him a deadpan look. " _No_."

He makes his brother a cup of tea. He's aware that he's stalling, making every possible effort to put off the conversation for as long as possible. But he doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know how to start.

He doesn't _want_ to start. He wants to stay in his bubble of denial, where he can pretend that everything is okay and none of it is actually real.

( _None of them are actually dead._ )

Itachi's hands are shaking as he makes the tea. He forces them to stop, carrying it over once he's finished. He hands the cup to his brother, then sits on the couch next to him, angling his body to face him.

"What did you want to talk about?" Sasuke asks.

Itachi's hands start to tremble again. He curls them into fists against his thighs. "We have to talk about what happened," he says. "On that night."

There's no need for him to clarify _which_ night. Sasuke goes pale immediately, his entire body tensing.

"I don't want to talk about that," he says immediately. There's a thinly-veiled panic in his voice.

"I know you don't want to," Itachi replies gently. "I don't want to, either. But Sasuke, we _need_ to."

Sasuke's hands are shaking, just like Itachi's were. His breath catches. He's panicking just at the _thought_ of talking about it, the cup of tea trembling in his hands, and Itachi is supposed to be good at consoling him, but suddenly he feels overwhelmingly lost.

He's tempted to back out of the conversation. He's upsetting his brother, they don't need to talk about this, it can wait for the morning, for tomorrow night, for the weekend—

But all he's doing is making excuses. He's been making excuses for weeks, avoiding this conversation, because he's too terrified to hear what happened. And it would be so, so easy to keep doing it, to keep telling himself he'll do it tomorrow, _just one more day, just one more day, just one more day—_

Itachi places his hands over his brother's, taking the cup of tea from his hands and placing it on the table in front of them. He lowers Sasuke's hands to his lap, squeezing them before letting go.

"There's a reason we need to talk about this," Itachi says. "This isn't the first time you've had a nightmare this violent. You've had them nearly every night since we moved in. Each time, I have to pin you down to stop you from hurting yourself. It scares me, Sasuke."

Sasuke looks at him, his eyes fragile. He bites his lip.

"I don't remember," he says quietly.

"You never do. You always fall back asleep once you snap out of it. But your eyes are always wide-open, and your Sharingan—"

Itachi stops, his words catching. He isn't sure how to explain this, isn't sure that he _should_.

Sasuke frowns. "What about my Sharingan?"

Itachi hesitates. He isn't sure how to explain this himself, so he falls back on his father's words. Eight years old and sitting cross-legged on the floor of the dojo, listening with rapt attention as Fugaku explained it to him for the first time.

"This is something that's a secret to people outside of our clan," Itachi says. "But there's a doujutsu that's a level above the ordinary Sharingan. It's called the Mangekyou Sharingan."

Sasuke frowns slightly. He's clearly confused by the turn of the conversation, but his attention is still caught. He's always taken a keen interest in these things.

" _Man-gek-you_." He pronounces the unfamiliar word slowly, frowning. "I've never heard of it."

"You wouldn't have," Itachi tells him. "It's extremely rare. Almost legendary. It can only be awakened through very specific circumstances, which is why hardly anyone ever obtains it."

 _And if they do,_ he thinks, recalling the accusations his clan faced for the Kyuubi attack, _then they know better than to go around advertising it._

His father had taken great care in hiding his Mangekyou. So had Shisui. The only reason Danzo had even known—

( _I'll see you soon._ )

Itachi shies away from that line of thought. It leads to a rabbit hole he can't afford to fall into.

"Specific circumstances," Sasuke mutters. He frowns. "What do you mean? What kind of circumstances?"

Itachi remembers Shisui's story, of the comrade who died because he withheld aid. _It was my fault. A single moment of selfish envy, and she died because of it—_ He remembers his father's story, of a friend bleeding out slowly on the battlefield. _It was a mercy kill—_

"You have to cause the death of someone closest to you," Itachi answers. "That's how you awaken the Mangekyou."

He pauses before he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have the Mangekyou. I've seen it. Every night, it's in your eyes. Now do you understand, why I need to know about that night?"

Sasuke stares at him, frozen. His skin is bone-white. Itachi shifts closer.

"What _happened_ , Sasuke?"

Sasuke stares down at his lap, his hands shaking. He doesn't answer, not for a long time, but finally, he speaks. His voice is so quiet that Itachi has to strain to hear him.

"I was asleep," he whispers. "It was really late, and I… I didn't hear the screaming. Not until Mother woke me up."

He pauses, his head lowering. His hair falls into his face, his trembling fingers catching on his pajama pants.

"She barged into my room and shook me awake. I didn't understand what was happening. But her voice was scared, and it made _me_ scared, and she pulled me from my room and started dragging me through the house. I could hear noises from outside. Fighting. Yelling."

Itachi tries to imagine it—the panic and the fear. Being shaken awake in the middle of the night, no idea what was going on.

"I kept asking Mother what was happening, but she wouldn't answer. And then Father came through the front door. He was limping, and he looked scared, too, which made me _really_ scared. I've never seen him look scared before."

Neither has Itachi. He tries to imagine it now, but he's unable to picture it.

"Father told us to leave." Sasuke's breath catches, his hands twisting in his lap. "He told Mother to run, to keep me s-safe. She tried to make him come w-with her, b-but… he refused. He said… h-he said he had to fight."

Itachi feels his own hands shake, feels his jaw clench. _Of course he did. Of course he would abandon them._

Part of Itachi knows he's being unreasonable. Those were his father's clansmen being slaughtered, of course he would stay to fight. But right now Sasuke is shaking as he relives the nightmare their father caused, so right now Itachi doesn't care.

( _He did this. He did this, he did this, he did this—_ )

Itachi takes a breath and steadies his hands.

"What happened then?" he asks.

"We ran," Sasuke answers. "Mother grabbed my hand, and—" He chokes on his words, his eyes haunted. "Nii-san, it was _horrible_ —"

Itachi doesn't push. He reaches forward and takes his brother's hand, allowing him to speak on his own time. His breaths echo in the silence of the living room.

"There was blood everywhere. And bodies. Everyone was fighting, and screaming, and there were bodies _everywhere_ , and Father was gone. Mother kept p- _pulling_ me, and they were cutting us down like _animals_ —"

Sasuke makes a choked sound, curling into himself. Itachi listens, and feels the futile kind of horror one experiences when they've learned of something dreadful far too late to fix or change anything.

He doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to hear.

But he _has_ to.

"We were—running," Sasuke says. "But then—there was an ANBU in front of us. And then—then—"

Itachi's hand tightens around his brother's. He already knows what comes next. He knows from the hitch in his brother's voice, the ghosts in his eyes.

A quiet sob escapes Sasuke's lips. "And she— _she_ _jumped in front of me_."

He bows his head. His body shakes like a leaf.

"It all… it all happened so fast. We were running, and then—then she yelled my name and shoved me—she screamed, I think, or I did, and then—then she was on the _ground_ —and there was—was blood…"

Itachi's breath catches somewhere deep in his chest. His hand tightens over Sasuke's, the fingers of his other hand digging into his knee.

"What happened then?" he asks. His voice shakes. "Sasuke, what happened?"

"An… an ANBU member," Sasuke whispers. "In a dog mask. He hid me in a closet. Told me to stay. To be quiet."

In the back of his mind, Itachi registers the words. _A dog mask_. He pushes it aside for now, struggling to steady himself.

Itachi knows that he will never truly understand. He will never feel the _fear_ his brother felt that night, the panic, the despair. The horror of watching their family be cut down in front of him… of watching their mother's eyes go cold… that is a memory that belongs to him alone.

_Pull yourself together. You weren't even there._

And that's the root of the entire problem, isn't it? _He wasn't there._

"He took you to the Hokage," Itachi says. Sasuke pauses slightly, then nods. The silence of the room is deafening.

"I killed her," Sasuke whispers.

Itachi startles, his heart going cold. " _No_ ," he says. "Sasuke, _no_. You didn't kill her—"

"But the Mangekyou—you said—"

"It was responding to your guilt, not the act itself—Sasuke, it is _not your fault_ —"

A sob escapes Sasuke's lips. Itachi's heart stops at the broken sound.

"It _is_ ," he sobs. "She's dead, Nii-san, she's _dead,_ because of _me_ , it's my f-f- _fault_ —"

Sasuke shakes. For a moment, Itachi is frozen, then he forces himself to move. He pulls his little brother against him, tucking his head under his chin. Sasuke goes pliant against him, as Itachi circles him with his arms.

Sasuke's tears soak into his shirt. Itachi holds him tightly. He still doesn't cry.

Itachi wonders what's so wrong with him, that his eyes refuse to give voice to his pain.

"I killed her," Sasuke gasps. "I killed her, I killed her, _I killed her_ —"

Sasuke breaks down and _sobs_. He curls into the circle of Itachi's arms, clinging to him desperately. It's like that first day at the hospital, all of his grief ripped open anew, but this is _more_ somehow, this is _heavier_.

Itachi holds him as he cries. His own eyes are dry, completely at odds with the devastation in his heart.

Sasuke's tea goes cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know I said Itachi's point of view was going to be 3 chapters... and then I changed it to 4 chapters... but now I'm changing it again, to 5 chapters, because apparently I'm completely incapable of judging how long something is going to be before writing it out :-/ which is why the overall chapter count has changed (and knowing me, it will probably change again)


	4. to cut the throats of corpses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after far too long, the chapter is finally here. Sorry!

* * *

Itachi dreams of blood and screaming, of familiar faces frozen and lifeless. He dreams of his mother falling, the pattern in Sasuke’s eyes shifting, changing, _twisting_ —

He dreams of a clearing littered with corpses, his father’s hand on his shoulder. _Remember, this is a battlefield._

* * *

The next morning, Itachi stands on Kakashi Hatake’s doorstep.

He was surprised he still remembered where the man lived, since he had only read out his address to him once. It was during the beginning of his tenure as a member of Team Ro, after a particularly brutal mission that left blood on his hands and darkness in his eyes.

 _If you ever need anything,_ Kakashi had said.

Itachi had thanked him for the offer. He never took him up on it.

Now, he stands in the empty hallway of the apartment building, trying to make himself knock. He’s holding his hands back from shaking. He doesn’t know where this sudden influx of nerves has come from.

He feels like he’s not meant to be here. Which is ridiculous, because there’s nothing prohibiting him from visiting an old squad-mate. But Itachi is an _Uchiha_ , and if he’s right, then Kakashi was on the ANBU squad that killed them. He feels like someone will look at him and _know_ , will drag him away for planning to discuss a highly classified ANBU mission.

Because that’s what the slaughter of his clan was—a mission. A mission that, if Danzo had had his way, Itachi would have carried out by himself.

Itachi’s hands clench as images from last night’s dream flash in front of him. He raises his fist and knocks.

It’s quiet on the other side of the door. Itachi considers that he might not be home. It’s fairly early in the morning, but perhaps he’s already left for his ANBU duties—

The door swings open. Kakashi is half a foot taller than him, and his gaze lowers when it locks with his. There’s a moment of surprise, followed by resignation.

“Itachi-kun,” he greets.

Itachi tries not to flinch at the honorific. Shisui was the only one who used it regularly. “Senpai.”

Kakashi’s eye curves in a way that suggests he’s frowning beneath his mask. “What did I tell you about calling me that? We’re of equal rank now.”

Itachi inclines his head slightly. He remembers that conversation—less than a year ago, on the day of his promotion. It was the last time they had truly spoken.

“Can we talk?” he asks.

Kakashi hesitates for the briefest moment. Then he moves aside, allowing Itachi to step over the threshold.

Itachi worked under Kakashi for nine months, and in that time he grew to respect the man greatly. But their relationship was still never one of friends; their interactions were limited solely to their ANBU duties, and when Itachi made captain, they ceased almost completely.

They’ve exchanged casual greetings on the street or in the barracks since then, but that’s been the extent of it. And since the Uchiha were killed, Itachi hasn’t seen him at all.

He suspects that this has been intentional. Kakashi Hatake has been avoiding him.

Still, he wasn’t surprised to find Itachi at his door. Kakashi closes the door behind him, and Itachi walks further into the room, turning to face him.

“You knew I would come.”

“I suspected you would,” the jounin replies. “Eventually.”

Itachi takes a closer look at him. He hasn’t changed since Itachi saw him last, though he does look more tired. There are dark circles under his eyes. He’s always walked with a weight to him, ghosts clinging to his every step, but it seems even heavier now. Deeper.

Itachi thinks of the blood soaking the compound’s streets. His eyes dart down to Kakashi’s clean hands. He wonders how long the man had to scrub them to get it all off.

Thinking about it too long makes him feel sick. He forces the feeling down.

“You saved my brother,” he says.

Kakashi looks at him steadily for a long moment. Then he sighs, leaning against the wall next to the closed door.

“You never were one for chitchat.” He tilts his head in the direction of the loveseat feet away. “Did you want to sit down?”

“I’d rather not. If you don’t mind.”

Kakashi looks at him for a moment. “Alright.”

His gaze has always been sharper than Itachi has felt comfortable with. He studies him now, his visible eye piercing. Itachi can feel the dreaded question on his tongue— _how are you doing_ —and cuts Kakashi off before he can ask it.

“Sasuke,” he repeats. “You saved him.”

He hesitates before he answers. Itachi understands why. What he says next won’t just be an admission that he saved an innocent life—it will be an admission that he was there. That he was a part of it.

It will be an admission that the Hokage told him _kill the Uchiha_ , and he _obeyed_.

Kakashi sighs. “He told you?”

“He told me someone hid him,” Itachi tells him. “I knew it was you by the mask.”

Kakashi nods, then confirms, “Yes. I saved him. I brought him to Sandaime-sama afterwards.”

He looks at Itachi steadily, awaiting the possible judgement for his actions. But Itachi looks at him, and there is no anger in him. Only gratitude.

Thinking of Kakashi cutting the Uchiha down makes him feel nauseous, and like there’s not enough air in the room. But Itachi doesn’t lay blame at his feet—the fault lies with Danzo. The fault lies with the Uchiha.

( _If they only looked beyond themselves for a single moment—!_ )

Itachi swallows. The man in front of him saved his little brother—is the only reason Sasuke is now sleeping at home, curled up in his bed and safe. Just the thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there is enough to cause Itachi’s hands to shake.

Would anyone else have hesitated when they saw the terrified child? Or would they have simply cut him down, stepping over his body and moving onto the next?

Itachi already knows the answer, and it terrifies him. _If he hadn’t been there… Sasuke would be dead._

Itachi turns to face Kakashi more fully. With a straight spine, he bends into a proper bow, the way his father taught him. An exact forty-five-degree angle, his eyes directed toward the floor.

“Thank you,” he says. His hair falls in front of his face, obstructing his vision. “My brother is the most important thing in the world to me. You saved my life when you saved his. There’s nothing I could ever do to begin to repay you.”

Kakashi is silent. Itachi pulls out of the bow, raising his head. The jounin looks completely stunned by Itachi’s gesture.

“I don’t—” he cuts himself off, struggling for words. “Don’t—don’t _thank_ me. I killed—”

“You saved my brother,” Itachi repeats firmly. “Thank you.”

Something almost desperate glints in Kakashi’s visible eye. He shakes his head. “But I _killed_ —”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Itachi says. His nails dig into his palms. “Don’t tell me.”

He doesn’t want to know which members of his clan Kakashi killed. If he does, then he’s afraid he won’t be able to look at the man again.

The expression on Kakashi’s face is a bit too perceptive for his liking. It always has been.

“Okay,” the jounin says quietly. “I won’t.”

A silence falls between them, and there’s a familiarity to it. It reminds him of his time as a part of Team Ro. Those days were less than a year ago, but it feels as if an entire lifetime has passed.

Itachi remembers the missions they carried out together. Most of them were bloody and harsh, but there were a few where their swords remained clean. Itachi remembers one in particular, sitting in a surveillance tower and looking out over his own clan.

Itachi remembers spotting Sasuke through the scope of the lens, remembers a smile twisting at his own lips. He remembers the way Kakashi looked at him, as if seeing a new part of him for the first time.

( _You must care for him very much,_ he had said.

In a rare moment of openness, Itachi replied with, _He means everything to me._ )

Itachi frowns, ignoring the pang in his heart at the memory of Sasuke’s carefree smile. “Can I ask you a question?”

Shisui would have said something smart, like _you just asked me one_. Kakashi merely inclines his head and says, “Sure. Anything.”

“When you saved Sasuke’s life that night… if you didn’t know he was my brother, would you still have saved him?”

Kakashi’s gaze stays locked with his for a moment. Then he sighs, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His chin drops, breaking eye contact.

“You want me to answer honestly?”

“Please.”

Kakashi hesitates before speaking. He takes a breath before looking back up.

“I want to say yes,” he says. “I don’t want to believe I could ever be capable of killing an innocent child, just because someone gave me an order to do so. But when I saw your brother standing in the street… and I recognized his face… the first thought I had wasn’t _I can’t let a child die_. It was _I can’t let **this** child die_.”

There’s shame on Kakashi’s face when he looks at him. And Itachi knows that this is another ghost that he will carry, that he will add to his collection of sins, dragging it behind him for years to come.

“Would I have saved him if he wasn’t your brother?” Kakashi shakes his head, and says like a confession, “I don’t know.”

Itachi accepts the answer as it is given—open and honest, from a soul awaiting judgement. But Itachi has no right to judge anyone for anything, and certainly not for something like this.

( _Not even to spare your little brother’s life?_ the Sandaime asked him, and Itachi knew the answer immediately.)

If the child had been anyone but Sasuke, and if the sword had been in his hand, Itachi knows he would have brought it down. He can’t blame Kakashi for the blood on his hands. Not when the same blood almost stained his.

“Thank you,” he tells him, “for being honest. I should get back to my brother.”

“Of course.”

Itachi walks past him. His hand is on the doorknob when Kakashi grabs him by the arm, halting him. Itachi stares down at the hand against his skin—the same hand that cut down members of his clan. He tries to remember the last time someone touched him who wasn’t Sasuke.

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi says.

Itachi looks up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, his breath is stolen. He remembers his mother shaking her head at him with a smile, as she pushed his hair behind his ear; his father smiling at him over a report card— _that’s my boy_ —

“Don’t be,” he says. “You had your orders. So did I.”

 _This loss isn’t yours,_ Itachi thinks. _Don’t hold onto it like all the others. Don’t let it become another ghost._

* * *

Itachi makes sure to warn Sasuke to never use his Mangekyou. Not unless he finds himself in a situation where he has _absolutely no choice_.

“Some powers don’t come freely,” he tells him. “Some demand a price. The price of this one is your eyes. The powers of the Mangekyou damage the eye permanently—use it too much, you’ll go blind.”

 _Don’t use it_ , he repeats, until he’s sure his brother won’t ever forget. _And if you’re forced to, don’t ever let anyone see. Promise me._

Sasuke promises.

Itachi doesn’t worry too much that he won’t listen. Sasuke has no interest in the new power he holds. To him, the Mangekyou is a link to that night—a link to their mother being cut down in front of him. He’d sooner cut it out of himself than try to use it.

One morning, Itachi finds him standing in front of the bathroom mirror. In the glass, a six-pointed star is reflected back at him. He stares at it, a deep pain in his face, as tears fall silently down his cheeks.

“I don’t want it,” he whispers. He brings his fingers up to the mirror, touching the pattern in his eyes that is reflected. “Nii-san, I don’t want it. I don’t want it, I don’t want it, _I don’t want it_ —”

Itachi catches him as he falls, his knees hitting the tiled floor. He sobs into Itachi’s chest, his eyes still bright with a blood-red star. His fingers feel small and fragile twisting into Itachi’s shirt.

“I didn’t mean to kill her,” Sasuke gasps. “I _didn_ ’ _t_.”

Itachi holds him in his arms, presses his lips against the top of his head. “You didn’t kill her,” he says. “Sasuke, _you didn’t kill her_.”

He repeats this over and over, until his own voice has grown hoarse. Until his knees have gone numb from kneeling so long on the hard floor. _You didn’t kill her, you didn’t kill her, you didn’t kill her_ …

He can tell that Sasuke doesn’t believe him.

But despite this heavy pain that his younger brother holds inside him, this crippling guilt that Itachi cannot convince him to shake, there’s no doubt that their talk about the massacre has helped him. He’s not as moody as he’s been lately, not as closed in on himself. When Itachi speaks to him, he responds with more than monosyllables.

Sasuke’s night terrors have begun to dwindle, in both frequency and intensity. They don’t disappear completely, of course, and he still has bad nights. But he’s getting _better_ , and sometimes he makes it through a whole four nights without screaming himself awake.

Itachi still can’t sleep, but he’s not what matters.

The weekend coming up is Sasuke’s birthday. There’s not much of a celebration, but Itachi gets him a sword like he promised he would.

“Thanks, Nii-san,” Sasuke says. He admires the gleaming blade, then looks up with a smile. “Can we practice now?”

Itachi wants to, but he has a report to fill out. And Sasuke has homework. He pokes his brother on the forehead with two fingers.

“Sorry,” he says. “Next time, okay?”

Sasuke rubs the red mark on his forehead and pouts.

Slowly, things become better. They don’t return to normal—things will never be normal again. But the two of them begin to settle into a routine. This is their life now. And bit by bit, inch by inch, they start to accept it.

Sasuke goes to school and Itachi goes to work. He picks Sasuke up from the Academy most days, and when ANBU is keeping him too busy, Sasuke walks home. He works on his homework when he gets back to the apartment, and dinner is served soon after.

Itachi begins training Sasuke on the weekends. The eight-year-old is a natural at kenjutsu, and Itachi knows immediately that a sword was the right choice for him. He teaches Sasuke other fundamental skills as well, such as the clone jutsu and chakra control.

One morning, he takes him to the docks to teach him how to walk on water. Itachi laughs when his brother falls into the lake, and Sasuke retaliates by tackling him. They both return to the apartment completely soaked, but it’s been a long time since either of them have smiled so much.

He trains Sasuke with his Sharingan, too. Sasuke is hesitant about this at first, because using it brings up memories of when he awakened it, but he warms up to it eventually, throwing himself into the training the same determined way he approaches everything else.

They don’t train with the Mangekyou. It’s too damaging. (And how can Itachi possibly teach him to control a power he doesn’t possess himself?)

Things become better, become easier. The ghosts never fade from them, never stop clinging to their backs, but they learn to live in spite of them.

Itachi even gets better with the cooking. He goes an entire week without setting a single fire.

 _We’re going to be okay,_ Itachi realizes. _I can actually do this._

Then the Third Hokage knocks on their apartment door.

* * *

“That answer is wrong,” Itachi says, glancing over Sasuke’s shoulder on his way to the sink.

“What?” Sasuke’s brow furrows. He squints down at the answer he just scribbled onto the homework in front of him. “It is not.”

Itachi sets the dirty dishes he’s carrying into the sink. He walks over to the table. “Let me see,” he says. “Oh, and by the way, stop hoarding dirty dishes in your room. We’ll get ants.”

Sasuke makes a face at him, poking his tongue out. He quickly turns back to the problem in front of him, and Itachi leans over his shoulder to see it better.

“It’s not wrong,” Sasuke repeats.

“You’re trying to calculate the trajectory of a shuriken, right?”

“I’m not _trying_ ,” he says with a huff. “I _did_ it. And it’s _right_. I calculated the shuriken’s position by its initial velocity and the acceleration due to gravity—”

“Your equation is right,” Itachi tells him. He plucks the pencil from his brother’s grip, pointing the end of it at part of the equation on the page. “But you forgot to factor in the wind. That makes your answer change.”

Itachi uses the pencil to erase the answer on the paper. Sasuke blinks, quickly realizing Itachi is right.

“Oh,” he says. He frowns down at the problem, looking stumped. “Well, what’s the answer then?”

Itachi smiles, ruffling his brother’s hair as he gives the pencil back. “Nice try, otouto. Figure it out yourself.”

The younger boy groans. “Nii-san, you _suck_.”

“Hey, watch it. I’m trying to help you—”

“Then what’s the answer?”

“I can’t just _tell_ you. Then how will you learn—"

That’s when the sound of a knock penetrates the apartment. Sasuke turns toward the door, then turns back to Itachi, a question in his eyes. _Who’s that?_

Itachi responds with a shrug. _No idea._

His hand slips from the back of the chair as he moves toward the door, pulling it open. He freezes when he sees who’s on the other side, his body instinctively straightening.

“Hokage-sama! What are you doing here?”

Hiruzen Sarutobi always strikes such an imposing presence when behind a desk. Itachi often forgets how short the man is in person—only an inch taller than he is.

“Itachi-kun,” he says. “I hope now isn’t a bad time. May I come in?”

Itachi manages, just barely, not to wince at the honorific attached to his name. He wonders if there will ever come a time when he will stop hearing it in Shisui’s voice.

“Of course. You aren’t interrupting anything.”

Itachi steps back, allowing him entry. He tries to recover himself from his surprise, closing the door and turning toward his brother.

“Sasuke. We have a visitor.”

Sarutobi approaches the boy with an amiable expression. “Sasuke-kun. How have you and your brother been doing?”

Sasuke stares at the man, his face unnervingly blank. After a moment, his expression twists into one of contempt.

“Like you _care_ ,” he says.

Itachi’s eyes widen, blinking in shock. “Sasuke!” he says sharply, but his brother looks unrepentant. He turns to the Sandaime. “Hokage-sama, I am so sorry—"

The Sandaime shakes his head, a sad look passing through his aged eyes. “It is quite alright.” He turns back to the younger boy, his voice gentle as he says, “Sasuke-kun, I understand how you must—"

Sasuke stands from his chair, cutting the old man off. He brushes right past them both without another word, his shoulder banging into Itachi. His bedroom door shuts with a loud slam.

Itachi stares after him for a moment, speechless. He recovers himself quickly. “Please forgive him. He’s never like this. I can’t imagine what’s gotten into him.”

“Can’t you?”

Itachi resists the urge to shrink under the knowing gaze. He’s right—Itachi knows exactly why Sasuke is acting like this. He bows his head.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “He’s just a kid. He doesn’t fully understand—”

Sarutobi shakes his head. “Do not defend me. He has every reason to blame me for what happened.”

There’s an instinctive protest on Itachi’s tongue. He bites it back.

The Hokage sits down at the table Sasuke just vacated. “I apologize for invading your home like this. Would you sit?”

Itachi hesitates. He wants to go to his brother—whether to scold him for his behavior or to check if he’s alright, he isn’t sure. The way Sasuke snapped at the Hokage was quite unlike him. He never would have done something like that before.

He’s different now than he was before. Angrier. _Sharper_.

With an inward sigh, Itachi tears his gaze from the hall. Pushing aside Sasuke’s open books, he sits down at the table.

“I was wondering,” the Hokage says, “if you’d given any more thought to the matters we discussed last month.”

Itachi’s mind is still preoccupied with troubled thoughts of his brother. It takes him a moment to recall what he’s speaking of.

_Clan Head. The Uchiha District. The Police Force._

All of it rushes back to him. He feels dizzy with the realization. He had forgotten all about it—no, he hadn’t wanted to think about it. It was all just _too much_ —

Itachi takes a steadying breath. “I’m so sorry, Hokage-sama. I forgot all about it. Things with Sasuke have been difficult…”

“I understand that,” he replies. “I told you there was no rush to make a decision, and I meant it. But it _has_ been over a month now, and I _do_ need an answer.”

Even now, after an entire month, Itachi feels the familiar sensation of panic rising up. It chokes him. He thinks of standing next to his father, in front of the Police Headquarters. Fugaku’s hand firm on his shoulder.

( _All of this will be your responsibility someday. It’s my job to prepare you. As Clan Head, you must learn to stand above others and lead them. But you also must learn to listen—_ )

Itachi breathes through the memories. Lesson after lesson—a warm hand on his head—a proud smile—

“I’ll figure it all out,” he says. “Just give me a few more days.”

Sarutobi looks at him with concerned eyes. “Very well. I’ll be on my way then. I wish you and your brother well.”

He stands from the table only a few moments after sitting down. After Sasuke’s words, he seems reluctant to impose himself on them any longer than he has to. Itachi stands as well.

“And Itachi-kun?” he says.

( _Itachi-kun,_ Shisui said.)

Itachi fights back his flinch. “Yes?”

“I truly am sorry for putting so much weight on your shoulders. You shouldn’t have to bear such responsibility so young.”

He swallows and inclines his head. “It’s okay, Hokage-sama. I understand.”

He closes the door once the man has left, leaning against it with a sigh. In the space of a few moments, it feels like the weight of the sky has resumed its position on his shoulders.

_The compound… the Police Force… Sasuke…_

Itachi presses his palms against his eyes. In the empty room, he allows himself a single moment of vulnerability. A single moment where he isn’t the perfect shinobi, the perfect brother.

Then he pulls himself back together. He walks across the apartment to Sasuke’s room, knocking on the door.

“Sasuke? Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

Itachi feels a tightening in his chest at the words. Sasuke has never sent him away before—it has always been the opposite.

Itachi’s hand drops back down. He leaves his brother alone.

* * *

Itachi doesn’t get any sleep that night. He pulls himself from his bed the next morning with a killer headache, only to find that Sasuke has already left for school.

He pulls his uniform on and drags himself to ANBU Headquarters. The day has mostly been set aside for training. Three hours later, he’s sitting in the barracks with his sword next to him. His bones feel like lead, doing their best to pull him toward the ground, and the caffeine in his system is barely managing to keep him awake.

He brings the cup of coffee to his lips. Next to him, Kakashi is frowning at him from behind a book. Apparently, their talk last week was enough to make him stop avoiding him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

The over-sugared drink scalds his tongue. “I’m fine.”

Kakashi’s frown seems to deepen beneath his mask. “Are you sure? You look like a chronic insomniac. And that’s your third cup of coffee in the last three hours.”

It’s actually his fourth, but Itachi isn’t going to tell him that.

“Do I really look that bad?” he asks.

“You _really_ do. Is something wrong?”

 _Besides the obvious?_ Itachi thinks, with a sharpness that’s unlike him. He bites down on the words. His exhaustion (and headache) is making him uncharacteristically irritable.

“Sandaime-sama is asking me whether I want to be Clan Head now,” he admits. “There are decisions that I need to make. But… I don’t know what to do.”

Kakashi blinks. “The Hokage is asking you that? Doesn’t he realize you have enough on your shoulders?”

“I understand his reasoning,” Itachi says. “It has been over a month now. I am the Clan’s heir. It’s not unreasonable for him to expect me to step up. He expects me to make the decision soon.”

Kakashi shakes his head. “Fuck him,” he says.

Itachi chokes on his coffee, his eyes widening. “I thought you respected Lord Third!”

“I do respect him,” Kakashi says easily, without hesitation. “He’s a good man and a great shinobi. That doesn’t mean I agree with all of his decisions.”

Itachi frowns. He thinks of Danzo, keeping his position despite everything he’s done. An image flashes through his mind—Danzo’s fingers plunging into Shisui’s eye sockets, _pulling_ —

Rage sparks deep in his gut, and his hand shakes around the styrofoam cup. He forces the feeling down. _That wasn’t Sandaime-sama’s fault._

 _Wasn’t it?_ a small voice whispers. _Danzo only has so much power because he allows it. If he only put his foot down…_

Itachi bites his tongue so hard he tastes blood. He takes another drink of his scalding coffee. He doesn’t want to think about this.

“If you refuse to take up the position,” Kakashi asks, “what happens? Is the clan dissolved? You won’t get a say in village matters?”

“Most likely. Usually, if the heir of a clan is unwilling or unable to take up the position of leader, it falls to the next viable candidate. In this case, that would be Sasuke, but he’s far too young.”

Maybe it would be better if his clan were to simply die out—for him to let his last name become meaningless. After all the strife the Uchiha caused… everyone who now hates them… might it be better that way?

Itachi sighs, at a loss. “What do you think?” he asks.

Kakashi shrugs. “Far be it for me to tell you what to do. But I believe letting the Uchiha Clan be dissolved would be a mistake. They were a founder of this village, were they not? They deserve better.”

He isn’t sure how to respond to that. _They deserve better_. It’s the first time since it happened that he’s heard someone say something like that.

There’s a distant look on Kakashi’s face. His hand comes up to briefly cover his hitai-ate, where it slants over his eye. _His Sharingan,_ Itachi realizes.

That’s right—Kakashi had a friend who was an Uchiha. The possibility of letting the Uchiha Clan die… letting the memory of them fade… it’s personal to him, as well.

“Your clan did a bad thing,” Kakashi says. “But they’re not the villains in this story. Maybe nobody is. Maybe everyone was wrong in some way.”

Itachi feels vaguely sick. His coffee tastes suddenly like cardboard. He offers it to Kakashi.

“Want the rest of this?”

Kakashi accepts it with a light shrug. Itachi turns his face away politely when the man pulls his mask down.

Kakashi gags on the drink immediately, spitting it violently back into the cup. “Disgusting! How much sugar did you _put_ in this?!”

Itachi blushes slightly. “Sorry.”

Kakashi eyes the cup of coffee in disgust. He drops it in the bin next to the bench.

These days, Itachi is gulping down so much coffee that his veins are pumping with caffeine instead of blood. He knows it’s extremely unhealthy, but it’s the only way to stave off his constant exhaustion.

He can’t sleep. And when he does, he’s haunted by their faces.

Kakashi has returned to the book he was reading before— _Icha Icha Paradise_. Itachi resists the urge to roll his eyes. There are some things about Kakashi Hatake he will never understand—his taste in literature being first and foremost.

Across the room, three ANBU members are whispering. _Uchiha_ , he hears one of them say, glancing in his direction.

Itachi’s nails scrape against the bench beneath him. Kakashi must have heard it as well, because he glances briefly from the pages of his novel to look at him in concern.

Itachi bites the inside of his cheek. Ever since the night it happened, he’s been forced to listen to the whispers. Forced to listen to his family’s name be dragged through the dirt. And the worst part is, everything that’s being said about them is _true_.

He doesn’t know what he should do—if he should take the position of Clan Head, or if he should simply let the Uchiha Clan fade. He _doesn’t know_ , and it tears him up inside.

He glances at Kakashi next to him. He remembers that mission, when the man offered him his address. _You can come to me. If you ever need anything._

“Kakashi-senpai?”

Kakashi makes a face at the form of address but doesn’t try to correct him this time. “Yes?”

“Do you remember our first mission together on Team Ro?” he asks. “Do you remember what you said?”

Itachi can see Kakashi trying to sort through his memories, trying to pick out the particular instance Itachi is talking about. Understanding flickers through his eye, his expression softening.

“Yeah, kid. I remember.”

“Does that offer still stand?”

“Always,” Kakashi says. “Even if you’re not on my squad anymore.”

Itachi bows his head. The words cause a warmth in his chest. For the first time since he raced back to Konoha and found the crime tape wrapped around his home, he doesn’t feel completely alone.

He has Sasuke, of course, has _always_ had Sasuke. But he has to be strong with him, can’t let his little brother see how close he is to breaking.

( _Take care of your baby brother, alright?_ )

“Thank you,” he says.

Silence descends again, broken only by the soft voices of the other shinobi. There’s a slight rustle as Kakashi turns the page of his book, and Itachi throws a glance at the clock. It’s almost noon.

“Uchiha-san?”

Itachi looks up. An ANBU member has walked over to him, their face covered.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Danzo-sama has requested your presence in his office.”

Itachi stiffens. Next to him, he sees Kakashi do the same, though the man doesn’t look up from his book.

 _Danzo is here_. The realization is like a sharp static shock shooting up his spine.

The room feels slightly unreal for a moment, slightly disconnected. Everything seems untouchable. All he can see is Shisui, reaching out with a smile to ruffle his hair—

( _Don’t die, okay?_ )

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and it draws him back. He takes a shaky breath, clinging to the solid weight of the touch. He forces Shisui’s face from his mind.

Quickly, he recomposes himself. Kakashi drops his hand from his shoulder.

“Did he say why?” Itachi asks.

The ANBU member shakes their head. “He did not. I’m meant to take you to him.”

Itachi considers refusing for a moment, but reluctantly, he agrees. Kakashi shoots him a concerned look as the two of them leave.

Itachi knows the path to Danzo’s office well, but he allows the other member to escort him. They are at least half a foot taller than he is, but Itachi doesn’t allow this to unsettle him. Most of the people he works with are adults, and he’s gotten used to projecting himself in a way that makes himself seem older, even when he has to angle his head up to look at someone.

The ANBU member—part of Danzo’s ROOT, no doubt—leaves him at the door. Pushing down his apprehension, Itachi steps inside.

Danzo is sitting behind his desk, and he looks up when he enters. Itachi’s heart stutters when he sees him, an emotion somewhere between fear and rage flickering in his chest.

Shisui smiling—Shisui laughing—Shisui carrying him on his back— _Shisui screaming as his eyes are yanked from his face_ —

Danzo’s face is bandaged, concealing his right eye. Itachi is hit with a wave of anger so strong, it momentarily steals his breath.

“Itachi-kun,” Danzo says. He stands from his chair. “Thank you for coming to speak with me.”

( _Itachi-kun_ , Shisui said.)

Itachi’s nails dig sharply into his skin, as he expertly hides his feelings from view. “Danzo-sama.”

The _sama_ tastes like ash on his tongue.

“How have you been?” the man asks him. “I haven’t seen you since everything that happened. I wish to express my regret that things ended the way they did.”

The anger roars again, loud in his ears. Once again, the world floats away from him, and all he can see is _Shisui Shisui Shisui_ —

The pain in his palm drags him back. His nails have broken skin, drawing blood.

Itachi isn’t sure how he keeps his face blank, but somehow he manages. “Is there something you wanted? I doubt you called me in here to ask how I’ve been.”

Danzo’s eye narrows slightly. Itachi knows everything that he’s done—and Danzo knows that he knows. But neither of them will speak it out loud. Neither of them is in a position where they can touch the other.

A drop of blood falls from Itachi’s closed fist, onto the wooden floor. He stares into Danzo’s face, wondering if one of Shisui’s eyes is hidden just beneath his bandages.

Itachi imagines gouging it out. He imagines ripping the bandages back and digging his fingers into Danzo’s eye, just like Danzo did to Shisui—

( _I’ll see you soon._ )

He can feel his chakra being pushed to his eyes. Itachi forces it back, shoving his rage down. _Stop. Control yourself._

“You’re right,” Danzo says. “That’s not why I called you here. I heard that the Hokage was asking you about being the Uchiha’s clan leader. A difficult decision, to be sure, but I’m glad to see that you’re making the smart decision. Turning it down really is for the best—”

Completely impulsively, Itachi blurts out, “Actually, I’ve accepted the position.”

Danzo blinks and stares at him with wide eyes. Itachi stares back, trying not to show that he’s just as surprised by the words as he is.

He _definitely_ hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t accepted the position yet—on the contrary, he was leaning toward turning it down. But hearing Danzo tell him that he should… it makes him suddenly want to do the exact opposite.

Itachi locks his jaw, feigning certainty at this decision, as if it wasn’t one he made just a second ago. Danzo’s lips thin, and the look on his face sends a chill up Itachi’s spine.

“You’ve _accepted_? Are you sure that’s the wisest—”

A sudden knock comes at the door behind them. Danzo falls silent as a young woman pokes her head into the room.

“Forgive the intrusion,” she says. “I have a message from the Academy.”

Danzo glares at her. “Yes?”

“Actually, it’s for Uchiha-san.”

Itachi frowns, turning around. “What is it?”

“It’s your brother,” she tells him. “Apparently, he got in a fight.”

“He _what_?”

* * *

Itachi is happy for an excuse to extract himself from Danzo’s presence. He is _not_ happy to hear that his little brother started a fistfight with another student.

When he reaches the Academy, he finds his brother sitting on a bench with Naruto Uzumaki. Both of them are sporting bruises, and Sasuke’s nose is bleeding. He has a tissue pressed to it.

Itachi turns to look at Iruka. “What happened?”

Iruka sighs, pushing off the wall. “These two got in a fight with another student. Kiba Inuzuka. Apparently, he said something insulting.”

Itachi blinks, turning to look at the two eight-year-olds. So it wasn’t each other they were fighting? But Sasuke isn’t one to start a fight over something like an insult.

Sasuke looks up at him, residual anger still lingering in his eyes. “He said the Uchiha got what they deserved. He said they _deserved_ to die. That the village was better off without them.”

Itachi flinches. Beside him, Iruka sighs.

“He had no right to say that,” the teacher says. “And he will be punished. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t have resorted to violence. Naruto, how did you get involved?”

“When he said that, I punched him in the face,” Naruto replies, completely unapologetic for his actions. “Sasuke’s a jerk, but no one deserves to be made fun of for having no parents.”

The two boys glance at each other. Some sort of silent understanding seems to pass between them, because both of them smile.

Itachi thinks he might be witnessing the beginning of a friendship.

* * *

Itachi talks with Iruka for a while about Sasuke’s punishment, then he and Sasuke exit the building.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Itachi chides him. “I understand being angry. But there are a lot of people who feel the way he does. You can’t go around punching every one of them.”

“He deserved it,” Sasuke says darkly, in a tone quite unlike him.

Itachi sighs. He turns to face his brother. “He shouldn’t have said that to you. But he didn’t say anything that wasn’t necessarily true. And he was probably just parroting something he heard his parents say. You’re just going to have to learn—”

“What?” Sasuke interrupts him, looking at him accusingly. “He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true? How can you say that?”

Itachi glances around them nervously. Sasuke’s voice is loud, and while there doesn’t seem to be any people around to overhear them, talking about this out in the open still makes him anxious.

“Can we get home?” he asks. “I don’t want to argue with you out here.”

“That place isn’t my home!” Sasuke yells. “It’s small and cold and empty, and I _hate_ it! And I can’t stand it there, not when _he_ bought it for us, and I _hate him_ —”

“Hey!” Itachi snaps sharply. “Don’t talk about the Hokage like that!”

He’s stunned by what he’s hearing coming out of his little brother’s mouth. Sasuke’s never yelled like this, and certainly never at Itachi.

“He killed Mother and Father! He’s the reason that they’re dead!”

“That isn’t true,” Itachi says. “Sasuke, there wasn’t a choice."

Sasuke shakes his head, his jaw clenched. He asks quietly, “Why do you hate them?”

Itachi feels the question like a punch, knocking the breath out of him. “I—don’t.”

Sasuke’s eyes cut to him, and his gaze is sharper than Itachi’s ever seen it. “Yes,” he insists, and his voice cracks over the word, “you _do_.”

His brother’s gaze traps him. Itachi can’t look away from him, and it’s suddenly difficult to breathe.

“You won’t defend them,” Sasuke says, his voice fragile. “Everyone’s always saying such horrible things about them, and you never defend them. You say horrible things about them, too. You _agree_ with what people are saying.”

Itachi’s bites the inside of his cheek, hard enough to taste blood. “They betrayed Konoha. They were _traitors_ , Sasuke.”

“They were our _family_.”

Itachi feels faint. He doesn’t want to do this. He _can’t_ do this. He wants out of this conversation, wants his brother to _shut up_ , and the intensity of the feeling stuns him, because he’s never thought something like that toward Sasuke before.

“Father planned the coup,” he says. “He planned the entire thing. Everything that happened is _his fault_. It’s all _his fault_.”

“He was trying to protect us,” Sasuke says. “Just like you were. How can you hate him for that?”

Itachi’s hands are shaking. He feels nauseous. “H-He was arrogant and power-hungry,” he says. “All of them were, th-they were obsessed with themselves—”

“ _Stop talking about them like that_!”

Itachi’s mouth snaps closed at the yell, staring at his little brother in shock. Sasuke’s eyes are wet, his body shaking violently. His eyes are full of pain.

“They’re _dead_ ,” Sasuke says, choking on a sob. “They’re all _dead_. And it’s like you don’t even _care_.”

The words are like a sharp slap. Itachi draws back from the shock of them, his breath catching. For a moment, he can’t speak.

“That isn’t true,” he says softly. His hands shake. “Of course—of course I care—”

“Then why aren’t you sad?” Sasuke demands. “Why aren’t you angry? You haven’t even _cried_.”

There’s something tight in Itachi’s chest, stealing his words. Something awful and splintered, and it crawls up into his throat. He can’t speak.

His mother’s arms around him—his father’s hand on his shoulder—Izumi’s soft laugh—Shisui’s wide grin—

( _why can’t I feel anything_ )

Sasuke looks up at him with tears in his eyes. “What’s wrong with you, Nii-san?” he whispers.

 _I don’t know,_ Itachi thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're wondering, the title of this chapter, "to cut the throat of corpses" is a translation of the Latin phrase _iugulare mortuos_. It basically means to speak ill of the dead.


	5. i'm sorry you saw me breaking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated this in so long! This chapter turned out pretty long, and it was actually going to take a few more days. But then I saw that it was Sasuke's birthday today, and I was inspired to finish it today.
> 
> Happy birthday to my favorite homicidal ball of angst :)

That night, Itachi dreams of the day he first met Shisui.

He’s standing in the small grove near the back of his house where he often comes to train. It’s a quiet, secluded place, good for when one wants to be alone. Itachi likes it. It’s peaceful.

Wooden targets are hanging on the cedar trees surrounding him. Itachi has four kunai tucked between the fingers of each hand, and he closes his eyes, slowly pushing the air out of his lungs from the bottom of his stomach.

_Breathe out. And then…_

He pushes off the ground with the balls of his feet, flipping in the air. He pulls his arms close to his chest, keeping his eyes closed, and he flicks his fingers. Eight flashes of light scatter out.

Six out of eight kunai hit their targets. Itachi frowns at the result.

“Nice work,” a voice says. Itachi swallows his breath, spinning around.

There’s a dark-haired boy standing behind him who looks slightly familiar. He’s leaning against a tree, and Itachi estimates him to be about ten—twice Itachi’s age. The sun is glinting off the metal of his hitai-ate, identifying him as a genin or higher.

He’s clearly an Uchiha. But the open smile on his face is uncharacteristic of a person of their clan.

“Six out of eight isn’t bad,” he says. “You’ll be hitting all of the targets in no time.”

Itachi stands tense, unsure of what to make of this stranger. The older boy walks forward, offering a hand.

“I’m Shisui Uchiha.”

Itachi recognizes the name. The boy in front of him is a prodigy—one of the youngest to ever make chuunin. His confusion deepens, but proper manners compel him to respond.

“I’m Itachi.”

He doesn’t shake the hand offered to him. Shisui drops it, his friendly expression not wavering. “I know. You’re the captain’s kid.”

Itachi nods. Some of his confusion must show on his face, because Shisui’s smile becomes more pronounced. It’s clearly an attempt to put him at ease.

“I heard you never really talk to anybody. You’re a strange one, aren’t you?”

Itachi feels himself stiffen, and he wonders if this boy is making fun of him. “If you don’t need anything—”

“I just saw you here and thought I’d say congratulations,” Shisui says. “My sister works with your father. She told me your mother is pregnant. I hope she’s doing well.”

Against his will, Itachi feels a smile curve his lips at the thought of his incoming baby sibling. He attempts to smother it. “Thank you. I’ll tell her.”

Shisui looks past Itachi, toward the targets on the trees. “You know, you’re really good. That kind of mastery with kunai at your age… you’re impressive, Itachi-kun.”

Itachi blinks. He doesn’t think anyone’s called him that before, except maybe the old woman who runs the dango shop a few streets away. Oddly, he doesn’t mind too much, even though this boy is a stranger.

“I’m not that good,” he says. “I’m sure you could hit all the targets easy.”

“I told you, six out of eight isn’t bad.” Shisui’s smile gains a bit of an edge to it, now more of a smirk. He pulls out his own kunai, holding them between his fingers. “Here. Watch this.”

Suddenly, he disappears. Itachi’s eyes widen, a gasp escaping his lips. The older boy moves quicker than Itachi's normal eyes can track. His movements are identical to Itachi’s moments before, only a hundred times faster. Eight kunai slice through the air, hitting each kunai dead-center.

Shisui lands lightly on his feet. Itachi stares wide eyes.

“ _Whoa_.”

Shisui grins at his obvious amazement. “I’m not to shabby with kunai, either. I could help you throw like that if you want.”

Itachi holds himself back from agreeing immediately. “Why would you want to?” he asks.

Shisui shrugs. “Training alone can be lonely.”

Itachi bristles. “I’m not _lonely_.”

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Itachi blinks. Shisui grins again, easy and natural. He’s unlike anyone that Itachi has ever met, and there’s a warmth to him that Itachi can’t help but feel at ease with. It draws him in.

“What do you say, Itachi-kun? Let’s be friends.”

Shisui holds out his hand to shake. Years later, Itachi still doesn’t understand why he takes it.

* * *

When he wakes up that morning, Sasuke has already left for the Academy. He leaves a note for Itachi on the kitchen table.

_Don’t pick me up today. I can walk home myself._

Something cold sinks to the bottom of Itachi’s stomach. He sets the note back down where he found it, his fingers feeling bloodless.

Sasuke is slipping away from him.

It’s been happening for a while now. Since the moment he rushed home and found his entire world had been torn away while he was gone. Sasuke has been drifting from him, slowly and subtly, the invisible gulf between them widening inch by inch. But it was easier to pretend it wasn’t there, easier to hope it would solve itself.

Itachi didn’t want to deal with it. He still doesn’t want to. Because that means confronting the issues that are causing it, and he isn’t ready for that.

For the past six weeks, their relationship has been like a pane of glass with a single small crack. Left untreated, that single crack has spiderwebbed outward in all directions. Their fight yesterday was the final fracture that proved too much, causing the entire window to _shatter_.

Their relationship is broken, and Itachi doesn’t know how to begin fixing it.

Itachi thought he understood everything, before this. He thought he knew who was right and who was wrong. It wasn’t always a clear line, but he was still able to differentiate.

The Uchiha were _wrong_. And Konoha did what it needed to do—the only thing it _could_ do.

But Itachi’s head is filled with different voices now, and all of them are saying different things. He’s never felt so confused—so lost.

(Shisui asked him once: _If both sides believe they are right, who’s to say which side is wrong?_

Itachi wasn’t able to answer him.)

His head is a mess of voices. His mother's, his father’s, Shisui’s. The Hokage’s and Danzo's. All the villagers proclaiming that his clan _got what they deserved_ … and Kakashi telling him _they deserved better_.

And Sasuke’s quiet voice, rising above all the others:

_He was trying to protect us. Just like you were. How can you hate him for that?_

* * *

Early that morning, while Sasuke is at the Academy, Itachi pays a visit to their ancestral shine.

This requires him to step foot inside the Uchiha District for the first time since he found Sasuke curled up on the floor of their house. The entrance is still covered in crime tape. He stands there for a long time before he’s able to force himself to move.

It’s like a ghost town, and the reality of it is sobering. The streets, which used to be lively and full of color, are now washed-out and gray. The houses he passes are empty, windows smashed. Broken glass crunches under his feet.

The bodies have been disposed of, the blood cleaned away. But the echo of what happened here still remains. Itachi can feel it all around him.

A sense of death. He can almost hear the screams.

It’s a heavy feeling that tries to choke him. It slithers down his throat and into his chest, wrapping around his heart. Everywhere he looks is a memory—people and time and feelings that he’ll never get back.

Across the street is where he and Izumi once got dango. That block is where he and Sasuke once chased down a neighbor’s old cat. The memories are _everywhere_ , some of them from less than two months ago. How could all of it shatter so fast?

Itachi doesn’t have to pass his own house. But he passes Shisui’s, and it’s like a knife being driven between his ribs.

_I’m so sorry._

It feels like it takes him an eternity to reach Nakano Shrine, when in reality it’s only a few minutes. It looms over him, untouched by the horrid events that occurred. Itachi swallows the tightness in his throat and pushes the doors open.

Unlike most of his clansmen, Itachi has never been a very religious person. He has always seen the Uchiha’s old customs and traditions as another thing that kept them separate from the village. But he still came to the shrine to pray occasionally, even if it was never as often as his parents liked.

It feels wrong standing here now—almost blasphemous. What right does he have to stand in his clan’s place of worship when he was culpable in eradicating them? There’s an irrational fear in the back of his mind that Amaterasu will strike him down.

Ridiculous. Itachi has to remind himself that he doesn’t believe in the old gods.

The actual shrine is underground. Itachi preforms the specific technique that reveals the underground passage. He lights a candle before descending the steps, the flame leading the way in the dark.

The Nakano Shrine isn’t just a place to worship their patron deity. It’s also a place to honor their dead. It’s for this reason that Itachi comes.

He needs direction. He needs guidance. He needs to sort out his head, to figure out what being an Uchiha means to him. If he wants it to mean anything.

_What should I do, Shisui?_

When he reaches the last step, there’s already someone in the room.

Itachi almost drops the light he’s holding. He swallows a gasp, his eyes widening. His Sharingan activates.

“Who are you?” he demands. “What are you doing here?”

The intruder has his back to him. He has long, wild black hair. Slowly, he turns around. Itachi tenses, his feet falling into a fighting stance.

The man is wearing an orange mask on his face that has several black lines. There’s only one eye hole. He’s over half a foot taller than Itachi.

The masked man tilts his head at him. “Well, this is unfortunate.”

The voice is deep. Deeper than Itachi expected. The man takes a step forward, and Itachi flinches back. The back of his foot hits the step.

“I said who are you,” Itachi repeats, successfully keeping his voice steady. “Only the Uchiha Clan knows about this place. Only they can get in.”

 _He has to be an Uchiha,_ he thinks. _There’s no way he could have gotten down here if he wasn’t._

The man walks toward him slowly. Itachi holds himself tense, his eyes narrow. His gaze goes behind the man, trying to figure out what he’d been doing before Itachi interrupted him.

He spots the ancient stone tablet against the far wall and realization strikes him. He returns his eyes to the man's masked face.

“You were trying to read the tablet. How did you know it was there?”

Itachi can’t read it. Only those who awakened the Mangekyou can decipher the writing on the tablet. Is it possible that this man…?

“Never you mind that,” the man says to him. “None of this concerns you. Not yet anyway. It won’t for a while.”

The man reaches up to remove his mask. Itachi gasps at the face behind it, his body going completely cold.

“You’re…”

“Forgive me, little cousin.” His voice is different now, belonging to a completely different person. “But no one is supposed to know I was here.”

His eye flares red with the Sharingan, the pattern twisting—

Itachi blinks. He’s standing at the bottom of the steps in an empty room, and he doesn’t remember stepping inside. The candle in his hands burns down to the wick.

_What…?_

He remembers entering the shrine. He remembers beginning to descend the stairs. But after that… it feels as if his mind has skipped forward. He only remembers walking down halfway.

_When did I reach the bottom of the stairs?_

Itachi feels suddenly that he’s forgotten something very important. He stands in that spot for a long time.

* * *

Hours later, Itachi is still struggling with the nagging feeling that he’s forgotten something. He leans against the wall of lockers in the ANBU barracks, frowning into his coffee.

“What’s up with you today?” Kakashi asks, as he pulls his gear from his locker.

“I don’t know,” Itachi says, his eyebrows furrowed. “I just feel like I’ve forgotten something. I can’t remember what it is, and it’s bothering me.”

“Did you forget to feed Sasuke?”

Itachi looks at him incredulously. “Forget to—he’s my brother, Senpai, not a dog.”

Kakashi shrugs. “I don’t know how kids work.” He frowns when he notices the cup in his hands. “Are you drinking coffee again? Didn’t we talk about the coffee?”

Itachi scowls. “It’s _one cup_ “

“You have an addiction.”

“I do _not_. Coffee in the morning is normal.”

“It’s not morning. It’s one in the afternoon.”

Itachi scowls again as he takes a drink of the coffee, and decides to find some less judgmental company. He spots two members of his squad across the room, and makes his way in their direction.

“Taichou,” Nezumi says. The man smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” Uma says. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” he tells them. Uma's resemblance to his mother still causes his chest to tighten. “Sorry I haven’t checked in.”

“That’s okay. Do you have any idea when you’ll be coming back to the squad?”

Ever since Itachi returned to ANBU, he’s been taking missions that are based inside of Konoha that usually only take a few hours. Serious missions that he carried out with his squad could sometimes take weeks, and he wasn’t comfortable leaving Sasuke alone so soon after what happened.

But now, it’s been almost two months. And it’s starting to become clear that Sasuke doesn’t want him around.

“I actually just talked to the Commander a couple days ago,” Itachi says. “He said he can have me back on missions in about a week.”

Uma grins, clapping her hands together. “That’s _great_! It’s not the same without you. Unless you’re not ready, of course! No one is forcing you, don’t feel pressured, take as much time as you need—”

Nezumi places a hand on her elbow to stop her babbling. He looks down at Itachi with a slight smirk. “Forgive her, you know she’s a spaz.”

“Hey! I am _not_ —“

“What she’s _trying_ to communicate is that we’ll be happy to have you leading us again, whenever that may be.”

Itachi’s mouth curves up just slightly. “I’d like that, too.”

Now if only he could get rid off this nagging feeling in his head that he’s _forgetting something_ …

* * *

A week passes, and when Sasuke isn’t at the Academy, he doesn’t leave his room. He must emerge for food and to use the bathroom, but Itachi never sees him.

“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses to Kakashi. “I can’t let him shut himself away. But he won’t talk to me.”

“You might have to force him,” the jounin says. “Make him listen. Put your foot down.”

Itachi makes a face at the suggestion. “I’m not his father.”

“No. But you’re in charge of him now.”

Itachi drinks his coffee and doesn’t respond.

A few days go by, and he finally visits the Hokage to tell him he’s going to accept the position of Clan Head. Putting it off any further is only going to make him second-guess himself, and making the decision final is the only thing that will keep him from overthinking it and changing his mind.

Itachi has been coached for this position since he was able to walk, so fortunately, he’s prepared for his responsibilities. They’re still very overwhelming, especially with everything else going on in his life, but he muddles through it.

There’s a lot of paperwork. More than he was expecting. Finances. Property. Assets. All of the funds the Police Force provided. Itachi spends an entire weekend sorting through all of it.

He spends that same weekend trying to draw his brother out of his room. He fails.

Finally, on Sunday afternoon, the bedroom door clicks open. Itachi looks up from the papers that are strewn over the dining room table, as his brother enters from the hallway.

“Sasuke,” he says in surprise.

Sasuke frowns down at all the papers. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, really. Just some forms I need to fill out.” Itachi reaches out to order the paper, attempting to create space for his brother. “Did you have lunch yet? Here, sit down.”

“I’m having lunch with Naruto,” Sasuke says. “I told him I’d teach him how to tree-walk today.”

Itachi pauses with his arm still stretched out to the other side of the table. Slowly, he sits back. “Oh.”

Sasuke already has his shoes on, and his ninja tools are clipped at his hip. Itachi hides the sinking disappointment he feels. He’s happy his brother has made a friend.

(He knows it’s a bad idea to let Sasuke be friends with the jinchuuriki—but he’ll be furious if Itachi tells him to stay away from Naruto.)

Sasuke turns toward the door without another word. In a sudden burst of desperation, Itachi stands from the chair, grabbing the eight-year-old by the arm.

“Sasuke, wait. I hate that things are like this. Are you still mad about our fight?”

Sasuke looks at him, biting his lip. For a moment, Itachi thinks he sees the gleam of tears in his eyes, but then he looks away.

“I’m not mad,” Sasuke says, and his voice cracks. “I _miss_ _them_. But you don’t, so I don’t want to talk to you about it.”

Sasuke pulls out of his grip. He’s out of the apartment before Itachi can respond. The door slams loud behind him, echoing loudly in the room and in Itachi’s head.

Itachi returns to his chair at the table with a heart that’s unbearably heavy in his chest. He drops his head into his hands with a sigh. _What am I doing?_

He doesn’t understand how his little brother could accuse him of not caring. Of not missing them. Of course he misses them—it’s ripping him apart inside. Two months later, and their faces are still the only thing he sees when he closes his eyes.

He wonders if he could have prevented this. And now, he’s even second-guessing the Sandaime's decision. He doesn’t know where he stands, and he feels more lost than he’s ever felt.

It was the only option. The Uchiha Clan brought this on themselves.

But was it? Did they?

 _He was trying to protect us,_ Sasuke said. _They deserve better,_ Kakashi told him.

Itachi stares down at the piles of paper strewn out in front of him. In a burst of helplessness, he slides his arm across the table. All the papers fly into the air, crashing down to the floor. Itachi inhales sharply, leaning his forehead against his arm and struggling to breathe properly.

( _Remember_ , his father said to him, surrounded by lifeless bodies, _this is a battlefield._ )

Itachi’s eyes sting. He doesn’t cry.

Sasuke returns about six hours later, as afternoon is beginning to bleed into evening. He’s dirty and sweaty, and he takes his shoes off at the door the way he’s been taught.

“Sasuke,” Itachi says. “Can you come sit?”

Sasuke doesn’t meet his eyes as he answers, locking the apartment door behind him. “I’m all gross. I was going to go take a shower…”

“This will only take a minute.”

Sasuke pauses, uncertainty crossing his face. He pulls back a chair to sit at the table, which is now cleared of all the papers.

“What?” he asks.

Itachi reaches forward to place his hand over Sasuke’s, meeting his younger brother’s eyes. “I cared about Mother and Father. I miss them, too. I need you to know that.”

His words are as sincere as he can make them, but they don’t have the intended affect. For some reason, they seem to only _increase_ Sasuke’s ire at him. Anger flashes in his dark eyes, and he twists his hand, pulling it off the table.

“I told you I don’t want to talk with you about it, Itachi.”

 _Itachi_. It’s far from the first time Sasuke has called him by his given name instead of calling him nii-san—but something about it hits harder this time. It feels purposeful.

“Can I go take a shower now?” Sasuke asks.

Itachi swallows. He straightens in his chair slightly. “Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about. The ANBU is going to start assigning me missions soon. So you’ll have to be on your own sometimes. Do you think you’ll be okay with that?”

Something that looks vaguely like disappointment flashes through Sasuke’s eyes, but it’s quickly gone. “That’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I don’t like the idea of you being alone—”

“You were left alone all the time when you were my age.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” Sasuke repeats, crossing his arms. “I can take care of myself. And unlike you, I can actually cook. Did you know that Naruto lives all by himself? He’s the same age as I am.”

Itachi blinks at the last point. “Yes, I did know that. There are a lot of orphans in Konoha who live by themselves—”

“Then see? A few days is nothing.”

Itachi frowns. He still doesn’t like it. But he’s willing to admit that the problem might have to do with himself more than it does Sasuke. He sighs.

“Alright. I don’t actually know when I’m going to get the mission, but it will probably be soon.”

“Great,” Sasuke says. “Can I shower _now_?”

“Not yet. There’s something else.”

Sasuke lets out a melodramatic sigh. Itachi chooses to ignore it. His manner becomes more serious as he attempts to find the best way to broach the next topic. He knows that however he says it, his brother probably isn’t going to take it well.

“I told you I was taking the position as Clan Head, right? Well, I’ve had a lot of things to sort out this weekend regarding that. One of those things involves what's going to happen to the compound.”

Sasuke tenses in his chair. “What do you mean what’s going to happen to it? Why does anything need to happen to it?”

Itachi sighs. “Sasuke, it’s completely empty now. The Hokage gave me the choice, and after thinking about it, I decided to have the area levelled—”

“ _What_?!” Sasuke yells. He stares at him with accusing eyes. “You can’t do that!”

“There’s no one living there anymore,” Itachi says, keeping a reasonable tone of voice. “It can’t just keep sitting there, and it isn’t being used for anything—”

“It’s our _home_!”

Itachi winces. He suspected that this was how Sasuke would react—especially when considering the current source of tension between them. He doesn’t want to do it, either. But he has to be pragmatic about this.

It’s not just that the compound isn’t being used. Konoha’s citizens still scorn their clan every time Itachi walks down the street. The village won’t be able to move on and forget about the attempted coup if the Uchiha District just remains sitting there.

“I know this is upsetting,” Itachi says. “It’s hurting me, too—”

“It doesn’t seem like it,” Sasuke responds scathingly. “You just want to forget they existed. They’re _dead,_ and it’s like it’s just a big chore for you. Cleaning up the _mess_ they left behind—”

“That’s _enough_!”

Sasuke’s mouth snaps closed, his eyes widening at the sharp tone. Itachi exhales slowly, trying to regain control of the emotions swirling in his chest. His hands are shaking beneath the table.

“Our clan is gone,” he says, his jaw tight. “Whether it was right or wrong… that doesn’t change anything. It happened. We can’t keep pretending like it didn’t. I know you want things to go back to normal, but they won’t. They _can’t_. And we have to continue with our lives.”

The words are harsh, and Itachi wants to pull them from the air immediately. But gentle isn’t working, and he isn’t just Sasuke’s brother anymore. He’s the one responsible for him.

Sasuke stares at him for a long moment, betrayal in his eyes.

“Unbelievable,” he says, standing up from his chair. He wipes at his eyes before the tears can fall. “You’re _unbelievable_.”

The chair nearly falls as he pushes away from it. He disappears down the hallway, and the loud _bang_ of a slammed door echoes throughout the entire apartment.

* * *

Three days later, Itachi’s squad receives their first mission in two months. Itachi leaps at the chance to leave, because the silence in his apartment is _suffocating_ him.

“You don’t think you’re running away from your problems?” Kakashi asks him, as he watches him eagerly pack his gear into a bag. “Trust me, I’m an expert at avoiding issues. It’s never a good idea.”

“I know,” Itachi says, his jaw clenched. “But I can’t _breathe_ in that apartment. I just… I need to step back for a few days.”

Kakashi considers him, and then sighs. “Alright. And I’ll go by and check on Sasuke like you asked. Though I doubt he’ll be happy to see me.”

“Thank you.”

The mission requires his squad to journey to the Hidden Mist. It’s a simple assassination, nothing he hasn’t done dozens of times before, but it requires absolute discretion. If a Leaf shinobi is spotted carrying out a mission on foreign soil, it could cause an international incident.

He says goodbye to Sasuke before he goes. He gets a single monosyllable in reply, followed by his brother leaving the room.

Itachi is desperate to get away from the tension in their apartment. But at the same time, he has an irrational fear of leaving. The last time he left on a mission, two months ago, he returned to find his entire clan dead.

 _I had a bad feeling then, too,_ Itachi remembers, biting his lip. _Maybe I shouldn’t go._

Too late. He's already out of Konoha. In another day, his squad will be traveling by boat through the Land of Whirlpools.

 _It’ll be fine,_ Itachi thinks, trying to rid himself of the awful feeling in his gut. _Sasuke will be fine. It’s only a week. We can finally resolve things once I get back._

* * *

It takes three days to reach the Hidden Mist, a couple hours to complete the mission, and three more days to journey back to Konoha. Nothing goes wrong, it’s a complete success, but something about it is different.

Itachi’s hands shake as he kills the targets. And they’re still shaking afterward, as he scrubs off the blood. That hasn’t happened since his first ANBU mission.

(Perhaps he’s still haunted by nightmares where it’s _him_ bringing a sword down on his parents' necks, where the blood on his hands is his _brother’s_ —)

Itachi has been distracted by thoughts of Sasuke throughout the entire mission. He knows that the purpose of it was to allow him some space, but a part of him regrets leaving it like he did. One of the last things he and Sasuke did was argue—and Itachi ran away instead of dealing with it.

What if something happened while he was gone? What if Sasuke was hurt? What if he can never make it right?

It’s an irrational fear to have, but he can’t shake it. _Sasuke is fine,_ he thinks to himself, as his squad arrives back in Konoha on the sixth day. _Sasuke is fine._

When he steps into the Hokage’s office to deliver his report, Sarutobi tells him that Sasuke was nearly killed and is in the hospital.

* * *

As the Sandaime leads him through the hospital, Itachi experiences extreme déjà vu.

“It happened just this morning,” Sarutobi explains. “Your brother was training alone in the woods. His two attackers were ANBU. I believe he was targeted because he was an Uchiha.”

Itachi grits his teeth. His hands are shaking. It’s just like two months ago—still in his ANBU uniform, walking down the halls of the hospital, terrified of the state he’ll find his little brother in.

 _How could this have happened again?_ he thinks, his nails scraping his palms as they curl into fists. _I never should have left him alone. I knew it was a bad idea._

Why didn’t he listen to what his gut was trying to tell him? Instead he dismissed his unease as _irrational paranoia_. And because of it, Sasuke—

 _Take care of your baby brother,_ his mother told him multiple times. And Itachi keeps _failing_.

He should’ve known better than to leave Sasuke alone in Konoha—in a village that now hates their clan. There are so many people who would like nothing more than to see the last remaining Uchiha dead, and Itachi had _left_ him.

“His two attackers,” Itachi says. “Who were they?”

The Sandaime’s mouth tightens. “That’s classified information—”

“They tried to kill my brother. I don’t _care_ if it’s classified. Who were they?”

He’s too worried for Sasuke to register that his tone is clearly insubordinate. The Hokage, thankfully, looks past it considering the circumstances.

Reluctantly, the man tells him, “The names of his attackers are Fū Yamanaka and Yougi Aburame. I believe they were alone in this, but both of their clans will still be questioned—”

Itachi goes still when he hears the names. Ice immediately floods his veins. He knows them—they’re members of ROOT.

They’re _Danzo’s agents_.

Itachi’s rage hits him suddenly, stealing his breath. _Danzo_ did this. _Danzo_ went after Sasuke, tried to have him _killed—_ and the Third—

Itachi glances at him, his shaking fists curling into the fabric of his pants. Sarutobi knows it was Danzo—there's no way he doesn’t. He’s _protecting_ that man, same as he _always_ has—

Danzo is the reason his family is _gone_. He killed Shisui and _now_ —

They reach the hospital room before Itachi can properly process the information. Fear replaces the rage somewhat, as he stares at the closed door.

“Sasuke's attackers were already dead by the time a rescue arrived. Their bodies were both burnt to ashes by some strange type of _black flames_. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

The Sandaime looks over at him with a raised eyebrow as he speaks. Itachi swallows past the lump in his throat.

“No, Hokage-sama.”

 _It must have been the Mangekyou,_ Itachi thinks, a spike of fear shooting through him. _I told him not to use it. If anyone finds out he has it…_

“He hasn’t spoken much about what happened,” Sarutobi says. “Perhaps you’ll be able to get more out of him. I’ll let the two of you have a few moments alone.”

Itachi steps inside the room, closing the door behind him. Sasuke looks up at him from the bed. It’s just like two months ago, but also not—because Sasuke doesn’t run into his arms the second he sees him this time.

Sasuke doesn’t say anything as Itachi approaches. Unsure of his brother’s feelings regarding him, considering the way they left things, he sinks gingerly onto the bed next to him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I heard what happened. You’re not hurt, are you?”

He doesn’t look hurt, beyond a few light bruises. But he’s been in the hospital for a while now, so he must have needed healing.

Sasuke’s jaw tightens. “Where were you?” he asks.

Itachi feels a crack in his heart. His voice is quiet, so reminiscent of the night after Itachi brought him back from the compound. He begged Itachi not to leave then—and Itachi promised he never would.

“I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Itachi says. “I should’ve known better.”

“They tried to kill me,” Sasuke says, shaking. “They were shinobi from this village, and they tried to _kill_ me, because I was an _Uchiha_.”

Itachi winces. Anger sparks through him again, as he thinks about Danzo’s involvement in this. It wasn’t just two ninja carrying out a vendetta against the remaining Uchiha—though the Sandaime seems determined to paint it that way.

He reaches out to brush his brother’s bangs from his face, feeling horrible. “I know. I can’t imagine—”

Sasuke slaps his hand away as if his touch burns. Itachi’s eyes widen in shock.

“Don’t!” Sasuke snaps, standing from the bed. “Don’t—don’t _do_ that! Don’t act all _concerned_! Not when this is all _your fault_!”

Itachi stares at him, unmoving. He can’t comprehend the turn the conversation has taken, where the accusing words come from. “What?”

Sasuke’s hands clench and unclench. His shoulders shake.

“They tried to kill me because I’m an Uchiha! They hate all of us, and it’s all because of you! Because you told them about the coup! Because you chose the village over your _family_!”

Itachi feels like the air has been punched from his lungs. He can’t breathe.

“How—How did you know about that?”

“I’m not _stupid_ , Nii-san.”

This conversation has gone completely off the track, and Itachi struggles to make sense of it. He never told Sasuke about his part in foiling the coup d'état. He remembers sitting on the couch, lying when Sasuke asked him if he had known about it.

If Sasuke knows what Itachi did… knows about his part in it and how he lied… his anger toward him these past few weeks suddenly makes a hundred percent more sense.

What was it he said when they were arguing outside the Academy? _He was trying to protect us. Just like you were._

Sasuke knew. He’s known for a while now.

Itachi doesn’t know what to say. There’s no way to explain the complex position he was in to an eight-year-old—that it wasn’t village over clan, it was about the entire _nation_.

Sasuke’s never been through a war. He won’t understand Itachi going so far to prevent one.

“Sasuke…”

“Why did you have to tell them? _Why_? Did you even care about them _at all_?”

The words strike something deep inside Itachi. He feels his heart wrap up in tangled threads of emotion. His jaw clenches, the pain sharp as he bites down on his tongue.

“We’ve talked about this already. Of course I cared about them. I still do. Calm down—”

“Why?” Sasuke asks accusing. “Because the Hokage’s standing outside?”

“No, I just—”

“They tried to kill me,” Sasuke says, shaking. His eyes are gleaming with tears. “They gagged me and they tied me up, and they told me I didn’t _deserve_ to live. Is that how you feel, too?”

Itachi shakes his head. He clenches his fist, feeling suddenly angry. This is too much—all of it is too much—he can’t _breathe_ —

He sees their faces in front of him. His mother, his father, Shisui, Izumi— _how can Sasuke think—_

“They’re dead!” Sasuke yells, voice cracking. “I’ll never see them again, because you took them away from me! _You killed them_!”

Itachi’s vision goes red. Blood roars in his ears, and there’s the sound of a smack, a sharp cry—

Itachi comes back to himself. The back of his hand is stinging, and Sasuke is clutching his cheek, staring up at him with big, shocked eyes.

It takes him a moment to piece together what happened—to connect Sasuke’s reddening cheek to his raised hand. _I hit him._

It feels like being thrown in an ice-cold lake. Itachi’s eyes widen in horror, his face paling as he stares at his brother. _I hit him. I hit him, I hit him—_

He doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t remember moving his hand. All he remembers is a split-second burst of rage, and now his skin on the back of his hand is stinging.

Itachi takes a step forward. “Sasuke, I—”

Sasuke flinches back. Itachi freezes in place, feeling like he’s been stabbed.

For a long moment, both of them are silent, staring. Neither of them moves. Itachi feels something spreading in his lungs, crawling up his throat. His hands shake.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to do that.”

Sasuke lowers his hand from his cheek slowly, looking at him with a shattered expression. A tear slides down his cheek.

“I hate you,” he whispers.

It’s Itachi’s turn to flinch.

A small sob escapes Sasuke’s lips. His face crumples, and he pushes past Itachi, running out the hospital room door.

Itachi stands there for a long time. The world floats away from him. He’s vaguely aware of his own breathing. Is he still breathing? He must be.

He flexes the fingers of his hand. It still stings. The memory of the slap brushes against his knuckles.

_I hate you._

Itachi sucks in a sharp breath. He closes his eyes, covering his mouth with his hand as he fights down a sob.

The door opens, the Sandaime stepping inside. “Itachi-kun?” he ventures cautiously. “Are you alright? Sasuke just ran past me…”

( _Itachi-kun,_ Shisui said.)

Fury explodes in Itachi’s stomach. He whirls around, eyes bright with his Sharingan. “You did this. You let this happen.”

Sarutobi looks blindsided, staring at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

“Sasuke’s two attackers. They were members of ROOT. It was Danzo who did this.”

The Sandaime’s face goes blank immediately. “Itachi-kun, I don’t know what—”

“Don’t call me that! Only _Shisui_ called me that!”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Itachi is vaguely aware that he’s yelling at the Hokage and is completely horrified. But his emotions are too out of control to care at the moment. He can’t bite them down like he usually does.

“Danzo killed Shisui. He’s the reason my family needed to be killed. He nearly forced me to do it _myself_. He’s corrupt and power-hungry, and he tried to kill my brother! You promised that he would be _safe_!”

Sarutobi presses his mouth into a thin line. “I know. I will speak to him. But someone like Danzo is needed to keep this village running—”

“No. He goes, or we do.”

The Sandaime’s expression falls into one of shock, before he quickly recovers. “Itachi, please… this won’t happen again. I can guarantee it.”

“Get rid of him,” Itachi says with a locked jaw. “Or I’ll take my brother and leave. I won’t live somewhere I know he isn’t safe.”

* * *

Itachi’s head is spinning out of control. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, and he feels like every bit of control he’s been struggling to hold onto these past two months is _falling apart_ —

There’s a gaping abyss in his head. All he can hear is the words _I hate you_ , the memory of his hand connecting with Sasuke’s cheek—

_I hit him. How could I hit him—_

Somehow, he finds himself in front of Nakano Shrine. He falls to his knees in front of the steps, staring up at the doors.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so _sorry_.”

He doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to. His parents. His clan. His brother. The gods. Maybe he’s apologizing to anyone still willing to hear him. If there’s anyone.

Tears sting at his eyes and he gasps through the pain in his chest. He sees his mother’s face, his father, Shisui…

“I screwed it all up,” he confesses, bowing his head and offering himself up for judgment. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I screwed _everything_ up. I just wanted to keep him safe. Sasuke, I’m _sorry_ …”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Itachi’s eyes widen at the voice. Still collapsed on the ground, he looks up. Not too far away, Sasuke emerges from the trees.

Itachi wipes his eyes and looks over at his brother. “How long have you been standing there?”

“A while,” Sasuke says. “I was looking for you. Did you… did you really mean all those things you just said?”

Itachi swallows. His gaze falls to Sasuke’s cheek, red from the slap, and he’s hit with another wave of guilt. He struggles to steady himself, to regain control of his emotions.

“I did. I never meant to hit you—or hurt you—in any way. I know you think I don’t miss them, but I do, I miss them so much. I hate what I did. It kills me. I just wanted to keep you safe and alive. But I just keep hurting you, even though I don’t want to.”

Sasuke looks at him, a fragile look in his eyes. He walks over to kneel down by Itachi’s side, biting his lip. “Nii-san…”

Itachi bows his head. “Sasuke, I’m _sorry_.”

Sasuke looks at him. Then his lip trembles, and his expression _breaks_ , and he throws his arms around Itachi’s neck. Itachi’s eyes widen in surprise.

Sasuke pulls back extremely quickly, his eyes glistening.

“I’m sorry, too,” he says. “I’m sorry I said it was your fault and that you killed them, and I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t hate you. I don’t. Everything h- _hurts_ all the time, and I’m tired of hurting, I want it to st- _stop_. And I don’t want to fight anymore, because I miss you, I miss you so _m-much_ , and when they tried to kill me I was so _scared_ —"

Itachi reaches out to brush the tears from his cheeks, regret twisting his heart.

“I’m right here,” he says. “I’m sorry, too. I won’t let them hurt you again, I swear.”

Sasuke leans away, wiping at his eyes. “I used my Mangekyou Sharingan to kill them. You’re not mad, are you?”

Itachi winces slightly, but shakes his head. “I’m not mad. Your life was in danger.”

They’ll definitely need to have a conversation about that soon, though. Sasuke killed two people… burnt them to ashes. And even if he was defending himself, Itachi knows he’s never taken a life before. It’s going to hit him at some point.

Itachi reaches over, grabbing one of Sasuke’s hands. “None of this should have happened. But you’re going to be okay, otouto. I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

Sasuke nods, visibly fighting to pull himself together. He wipes his cheeks again, looking up to meet Itachi’s eyes.

“But what about you?” he asks. “Who makes sure you’re okay?”

Itachi’s breath catches painfully. He attempts a smile. “Sasuke, I’m okay. Really.”

“You’re _not_ okay. That’s what _this_ was, remember?”

Sasuke points to the red mark on his cheek. Itachi flinches, his hair falling into his face as he lowers his head.

“You’re in pain. Please stop pretending. I couldn’t tell before, but I can now, and it hurts. I don’t want you to pretend. You don't have to.”

Itachi’s eyes sting. He screws them shut, trying to breathe past the weight on his chest. His throat burns.

( _You don’t have to be strong all the time,_ his mother said.)

Sasuke wraps his arms around his neck, pulling him close. Against his will, Itachi finds himself sinking into the embrace, allowing the foreign comfort to surround him.

“You don’t have to be okay, Nii-san. You’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to cry.”

Itachi can’t _breathe_. He remembers being four years old, tears staining his cheeks, his father’s hand on his shoulder. A blood-soaked field piled high with bodies—

_Remember, this is a battlefield._

Itachi _breaks_. He presses his face against his little brother’s shoulder and cries for the first time since that day.

* * *

Itachi doesn’t know how long he cries for. Once the floodgates start, they refuse to stop. The first sob is ripped out of him, followed by another and another.

This time, _Sasuke_ holds _him_. He wraps his arms around Itachi’s larger body, allowing him to soak his shoulder with tears. He presses small hands to Itachi’s back, pressing him close.

“It's okay,” Sasuke says, and he’s crying, too. “It’s okay.”

A while later, when the tears have finally run out, Itachi reluctantly pulls out of his brother’s arms. He wipes the tears from his cheeks and faces him, reaching over to take Sasuke’s hands.

He tells Sasuke _everything_.

He tells him about the discrimination against the Uchiha, reaching all the way back to the founding of Konoha. He tells him about the Nine-Tails attack and their clan’s subsequent isolation. He explains the real reason he joined ANBU, the position he was placed in by the clan. He talks about the coup, and Shisui, and what Danzo planned to have him do.

He confesses to how agonizing all of it has been—how he’s been struggling to hold it together each day. How the guilt and conflict has been ripping him apart, and how it makes him feel like he’s _dying_.

When he’s finished explaining, his voice hoarse and tears once again stinging his eyes, Sasuke reaches across the gap to hug him.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says.

At some point, they’ve gravitated from kneeling to laying on their backs in the grass. Nakano Shine rises above them. Itachi feels lighter than he has in months—in _years_.

“I’m sorry,” Sasuke says, and Itachi looks over to see that his eyes are teary. “I was so mean to you. You were in pain, and I thought you didn’t care at all.”

“I understand why you thought that. I shouldn’t have hid my feelings from you. I was trying to protect you… but all I did was leave you feeling completely alone.”

Sasuke winces. “I didn’t mean to be such a burden to you.”

“ _No_ ,” Itachi says strongly. “Don’t ever think that. You’re the only thing that’s gotten me through this.”

He reaches down, sliding his fingers between Sasuke’s. Above them, the sky is blue and clear, a few clouds drifting by. Itachi tracks them absently with his eyes.

“Hey, Nii-san?” Sasuke asks softly, after a moment.

“Hm?”

“…I love you.”

A smile flickers across Itachi’s face. His hand tightens around his brother’s.

“I love you, too.”

**———**

( _In one world, Itachi Uchiha runs._

 _In this one, he stays._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That "I love you" at the end was self-indulgent brotherly fluff, but I couldn't help myself 😊
> 
> Itachi has been repressing his feelings regarding everything since chapter one of this story... him finally letting himself break down was the emotional payoff i've been waiting to write.
> 
> (His and Sasuke's issues with each other aren't all magically resolved of course. The whole clan vs. village issue is something they still hold different stances about. But they're finally open with each other here and understand what the other one is going through.)
> 
> This chapter marks the last of Itachi's POV (for now). Next chapter is a time skip, and we switch to Sasuke for a while :)


	6. all our days were bright red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to part 2 of this story, which is in Sasuke's POV. There's been an almost-five-years timeskip between this chapter and the last, so we're going to be getting into Naruto canon now. Some things will happen the same and other things will happen differently.
> 
> Also, a note on how Sakura is written in this chapter: Sasuke doesn't like her at all, and she's portrayed to be very shallow, which I think pretty much lines up in canon. However, there is absolutely no Sakura bashing in this fic. Sasuke will eventually grow to be better friends with her, just not in this chapter.
> 
> (also, I think I might have hinted at sasuke being asexual in this? I didn't intend to, but it just sort of snuck in there. feel free to ignore it if you want.) 
> 
> The opening scene in this chapter is from what happened to Sasuke in chapter five, when Itachi came back from his mission to hear ROOT agents had tried to kill him. Just reminding you, since you might have forgotten. Its been a while since I updated.

* * *

_(In one world, Sasuke Uchiha is angry and tired of biting that anger down. He allows his vengeance to consume him, turning his back on his home and walking into the den of a snake._

_In a different world—)_

* * *

When Sasuke is eight years old, he’s kidnapped and nearly killed by two shinobi from his own village.

He’s standing at the old training ground, the one out in the woods near the compound. He’s angry, so _angry_ , as he hurls a shuriken at one of the wooden posts. Because Itachi wants to tear this place down, tear down their home, forget their family ever existed—

He’s angry because their parents are _dead_ , and he’s the only one who _cares_ —

Sasuke clenches his teeth, tears stinging his eyes. He throws another shuriken, and his grip on it slips slightly, the edge drawing a hot line across his palm. He yelps, pulling the hand to his chest.

It’s a deep cut, likely to need stitches. Sasuke panics slightly as he watches the blood run down his skin in thick rivets. The sight of the blood reminds him of _that night_ —

Years later, when Sasuke looks down at the faded scar on his palm, he will always remember this moment: the moment a large hand wraps around his mouth and the point of a sword presses into his back.

“Don’t make a sound,” a voice says from behind him. “One noise, and this blade will cut clean through your spinal cord. Understand?”

Sasuke is frozen in fear; it turns his entire body cold. He can do nothing but nod.

“Good. Then follow us, and there will be no need for anyone to get hurt.”

Sasuke may be a kid, but he isn’t stupid. He knows this is a lie. But with the end of the katana pressing against his spine, what other choice does he have but to comply?

The man—for it was a man that spoke, his voice rough with age—guides him with the sword. Sasuke can’t see him, and is forced to follow the direction he’s being prodded. His breath is shallow and quick.

 _Nii-san,_ Sasuke thinks. _Help._

But Itachi is on a mission in an entirely different country, and Sasuke doesn’t know when he’ll be home.

As he’s turned in the opposite direction, Sasuke sees that there are two of them. The one he can see, the one that isn’t standing behind him, is wearing a standard ANBU uniform. A mask in the shape of a boar is covering his face.

Sasuke trembles, the fear in his heart _exploding_. He remembers those masks, glowing under the moonlight; splattered with blood, the glint of their swords cutting through flesh. Cutting through his mother—

( _“No! Sasuke!”)_

Sasuke remembers her hands as she shoved him to the ground—her blood hitting his left cheek. And suddenly he’s choking on his own breath, his terror trying to rip through his chest to escape him.

_These are the people who killed them—they’re going to kill me—just like her—they’re going to—_

“What the fuck is wrong with the kid?” the one in the boar mask demands. “Tell him to stop freaking out!”

A hand slides into his hair, yanking his head back. “ _Shut up_ ,” the other man snaps, as Sasuke gasps from the pain, tears coming to his eyes. “Or I’ll slit your throat right here.”

Sasuke forces himself to swallow his panicked gasps, as the blade is pressed harder against his back. He can’t breathe, and the fear is strangling his lungs. _Nii-san—!_

He’s led deeper into the forest. The hand never leaves his hair, twisted painfully in the strands. Neither of the two ANBU speak again, and Sasuke can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

They reach a secluded clearing, far from the training grounds now. Sasuke cries out in surprise as his legs are kicked out from under him. He falls to the ground, his injured palm stinging as it scrapes against the ground.

There are hands at his wrists and ankles, pulling them together. He fights desperately, the Sharingan swirling to life in his eyes, but he’s no match for the grip of the two adult men. His limbs are roughly yanked, a rope wrapping around his ankles and wrists tight enough to cut off his circulation.

One of the men flips him, and for a moment, Sasuke is staring up at the blue sky between the trees. Then a masked figure fills his vision.

“Stay still, traitor. I want to see the look on your face when I carve out your eyes.”

Sasuke’s eyes widen. His terror renewed tenfold, he fights to escape. But there’s a knee digging into his chest, crushing his ribs, and struggling sends pain shooting through him. The man in the boar mask has circled around to sit at his head, pinning his bound arms to the ground as the other man looms over him.

He’s wearing a mask shaped like a lynx. He pulls a kunai from his belt, holding it just beneath Sasuke’s right eye.

Sasuke freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“Look at those eyes,” the lynx says, disgust in his tone, and Sasuke realizes his Sharingan is still activated. “Are you proud of them, runt? Like the rest of your clan was?”

The kunai traces his cheekbone, pressing slightly into his cheek just light enough to not break skin.

“I saw a lot of those eyes that night… the night I helped cut your wretched clan down. You were there, weren’t you?”

Sasuke feels brief anger burst in his gut, but the fear causes it to quickly fizzle out. “Why,” he chokes out. “W-Why—”

Lynx shrugs, and Sasuke catches the slight glint of his eyes through the mask. “You’re an Uchiha. All of you have to be exterminated. For the good of the Leaf.”

Sasuke trembles, fighting to speak. “T-Touch me—touch me and my br-brother’s gonna k-k-kill you—”

Behind him, Boar _laughs_. It’s a cruel sound, and it causes Sasuke to flinch, the kunai slicing into his skin.

“Are you _threatening_ us?” Boar says. “That’s _adorable_. Rinkusu, cut out his eyes already.”

Tears spring into Sasuke’s eyes as the edge of the knife presses into the skin beneath his eye. Terror strangles his heart. _Nii-san!_

“You deserve this,” Lynx hisses. “ _Traitor._ Your eyes are all you’re good for.”

The man grips his face with a gloved hand to hold him still. Sasuke’s eyes are locked on the point of the blade as it comes down, and something flares inside him—a burst of _panic-terror-anger-rage_ —

His Sharingan twists, changing shape. The shinobi above him screams as he bursts into black flames.

A burning pain shoots through his left eye. Sasuke cries out, feeling something wet fall down his face. Blood clouds his vision, and he can taste it on his lips.

He can’t make sense of what’s happening. Someone is _screaming_ , and the smell of something burning fills the air. And suddenly someone is pinning him, a large body pressing down on his small one, a voice yelling and a knife against his throat—

Sasuke _screams_ , and that something inside of him flares again. The blade falls away, and another howling voice joins the first.

Sasuke stays there for a long time, listening to the screaming. He stays down on the ground, his limbs still bound, and he screws his eyes shut and waits for it to stop. His body shakes as the sickening smell of burnt flesh fills the air, threatening to make him throw up.

After a while, he searches blindly in the grass for the discarded kunai and he cuts himself free. He wipes the blood from his face, trembling and cheeks stained with tears.

His attackers are two charred bodies on the ground. Black fire scorches them, and the ashes are carried away by the wind.

Sasuke leans over and wretches, throwing up in the grass. He wraps his arms around himself, curling up in a ball and staring at the two blackened corpses. He _sobs_.

Four and a half years later, when he looks upon the scar on his palm, Sasuke will still remember this moment. He’ll remember his _rage_ —how _pleased_ he felt as he watched the fire peel the skin from their bones.

(He never tells Itachi about the feeling.)

* * *

It’s five years (four years, nine months, eight days) since the day the Uchiha Clan was mercilessly slaughtered. Sasuke Uchiha, twelve years old, is scowling as he rifles through his room, throwing his books and papers around carelessly in the process of trying to find what he’s looking for.

“Itachi!” Sasuke yells, as he gives up on his desk and moves to look under his bed. “Have you seen my headband?!”

Itachi doesn’t answer, even though Sasuke knows there’s no way he didn’t hear him in their unbelievably small apartment. Underneath the bed is clean, the grey carpet recently vacuumed, and Sasuke rises back up to his feet with a huff.

_Where the hell could it be? I’m going to be late…_

He glances at the clock on the bedside table. His last day at the Academy is going to begin in twenty minutes; he already passed the graduation exam yesterday, and now all that’s left is for him to be assigned to his genin team.

Except that he’s going to be late, because he _can’t find his damn headband_.

Sasuke slams the top drawer of his dresser closed in frustration, causing the family photograph sitting on top to rattle. He’s already completely dressed, his bag of ninja tools hooked to the belt loop of his shorts. His once-spotless room is now a disorganized mess.

He stomps over to the door and yanks it open, going down the hall. He stops at the bathroom, banging his fist on the closed door.

“Itachi!”

The faucet is running, and Sasuke hears the sound of it being shut off. The door opens, and Itachi pokes his head out, his toothbrush stuck in his mouth and wearing an irritated expression.

“ _What_?” the seventeen-year-old snaps, the word slightly garbled around the toothbrush. “Stop _yelling_.”

“Have you seen my headband? I can’t find it anywhere.”

Itachi removes his toothbrush from his mouth, briefly turning to spit into the sink. “You _lost_ it? Sasuke, you just got it yesterday!”

“It’s not _lost_ , I just don’t know where it is—”

“That is literally the definition of what lost is—”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Have you seen it or not? I have to be there in twenty minutes! I’ll be late if I can’t find it.”

Itachi levels him with an unimpressed look. “I have places to be, too, you know. You’re going to make _me_ late.”

Sasuke groans. Deciding his brother is a waste of his time, he spins around to return to looking for the hitai-ate himself.

He’s been looking for ten more minutes, has searched every crook and cranny of the apartment he can think of, when Itachi emerges from the kitchen. He’s wearing his ANBU uniform, his long hair pulled back into its usual low ponytail.

“Here,” he says, handing Sasuke his headband.

Sasuke blinks, his eyes darting up to his brother’s face. “Where—”

“You were training outside yesterday and it kept slipping off your head, remember? You left it in your coat pocket.”

 _Oh_ , Sasuke realizes, as he fights down the embarrassed blush that tries to rise to his face. He remembers. He was helping Naruto with his clone jutsu, after his friend failed to perform it and pass the graduation exam yesterday morning. He was uncharacteristically down, beating himself up over his failure. The headband hadn’t actually been slipping off Sasuke’s head, like he told Itachi—he just hadn’t wanted to wear it and make it seem like he was rubbing it in Naruto’s face.

It’s going to be strange, becoming a genin without Naruto. Sasuke always imagined they would be on the same team.

“Thanks,” he says, taking the headband from Itachi’s fingers. He glances at the clock again— _eight minutes_. He swears inwardly, quickly making for the door.

Itachi halts him, grabbing him by the elbow. “Sasuke, wait.”

Sasuke turns around. “What? I have like five minutes—”

His older brother takes the hitai-ate back from his hands. With a patient smile, he pushes Sasuke’s bangs back from his face, before tying the blue cloth around his head. Sasuke stays still obligingly as he centers the metal plate so it’s in the center of his forehead.

“There,” Itachi says, as he brushes away a few stray strands of hair. “Now you look like a shinobi.”

Sasuke feels something _pleased_ wriggle in his chest. Itachi looks at him softly, and his smile becomes tinged with a hint of melancholy. There’s something equally proud and sad in his gaze.

“They would be proud of you,” he says quietly.

Sasuke feels a lump form in his throat. He knows Itachi means well with the words, but suddenly he feels sick. He thinks about the Konoha symbol displayed proudly on his forehead, about the ANBU cutting his parents down—

 _Would they be?_ he wonders.

He doesn’t ask the question out loud. Instead he forces a smile. “Thanks, Nii-san.”

* * *

Here’s something about Sasuke that he’s spent five years hiding: he can’t _stand_ this village.

He’s fairly sure Itachi knows—or at least _suspects_ —that the ill feelings he harbored for Konoha five years ago never really went away. But he never brings it up, and neither does Sasuke, because if he can pretend he doesn’t know, then that means they don’t have to talk about it—and if they don’t talk about it, that means they can’t _fight_ about it.

Itachi may not be as blindly loyal to the higher-ups as he used to be—he may finally see the _wrongness_ of what happened to their family—but he still insists on believing that Konoha is a good place at heart, and on that, Sasuke will always disagree with him.

Sometimes, he’s so angry at his brother for not being as angry as he is—but then he remembers that day by Amaterasu’s shine, Itachi sobbing in his arms, and that anger dissipates.

Sasuke doesn’t blame Itachi. It’s just frustrating sometimes.

The night of the massacre still haunts him—every moment of it memorized and burned into his brain. It whispers to him at night, and sometimes during the day, causing him to freeze at the most random of moments. It howls in his ears, the memory of blood and screams, every time he passes a member of ANBU on the street.

Every time he looks at his palm and sees the faint scar there, and remembers the hands holding him down. _You deserve this. Your eyes are all you’re good for._

Sasuke hates them. He hates the Third Hokage, with his grandfatherly smile and kind eyes. He hates _Danzo_ , who holds his cousin’s eye beneath the bandages on his face (and the other one who knows where), and the two other elders who sit high on their perches. He hates the ANBU, _all of them_ , except his brother, and their masks haunt his dreams, a sword slick with his mother’s blood—

( _“No! Sasuke!”)_

But hating Konoha is _dangerous_ , in so many ways. So Sasuke bites his tongue and clenches his fists, letting his teeth draw blood and his nails break skin. He shoves the _anger-hatred-rage_ down deep, packs it into a small tiny ball inside of himself. He hates, so strongly that his anger sometimes feels like a bomb, but he’ll never do anything about it.

Because Sasuke hates this village—but he loves Itachi more.

* * *

He runs into Naruto as he’s heading to the Academy. The blonde boy runs up to him with none of the depression expected from someone who just failed to graduate—on the contrary, he seems to be vibrating with excitement.

“Sasuke! Guess what, guess what, guess what!”

Sasuke turns, perhaps to tell him to calm down, perhaps to question why he’s in such high spirits, when he spots the headband Naruto is sporting. Identical to the one that Sasuke is wearing. Surprise goes through him.

“How did you get that?” A suspicion runs through him, and he frowns. “You didn’t steal it, did you? _Moron_. They won’t let you be a genin just because—”

“I didn’t steal it!” Naruto yells, his enthused expression immediately transforming into one of offense. “It’s _mine_! Iruka-sensei gave it to me yesterday! I’m a genin!”

Sasuke frowns in confusion. “But you flunked the exam. I was there.”

Naruto flushes slightly at the memory—at the sorry excuse for a clone he had produced, which the entire class (except Sasuke) had laughed at. “Don’t bring that up! Look, it doesn’t matter what happened, okay? I _passed_! I’m a _ninja_!”

Sasuke winces as Naruto throws his arm around his shoulders, throwing his weight into him and almost knocking him over. He doesn’t understand—Naruto clearly failed the exam yesterday. What could have changed their teacher’s mind?

Not that Sasuke is unhappy, of course. Naruto is the only one in their class that Sasuke can marginally stand, so the realization that they could still be on a team together is a good one. But he’s just confused.

And there was something in Naruto’s voice for a brief moment—a _nervousness_.

Naruto continues to chatter in his ear as they walk, and Sasuke observes him closely. His best friend seems like his normal, noisy self, but Sasuke’s instincts are telling him something is off. But what?

Naruto turns his head slightly—and there’s a scabbed-over scratch on his cheek that wasn’t there yesterday.

“What happened to your cheek?” Sasuke asks.

The blonde pauses in his slew of words. “Huh?”

Sasuke raises his hand to his cheek, referring to the cut on Naruto’s own face. Naruto’s eyes widen, and realization is followed first by panic, then by fear. It’s quickly hidden.

Naruto laughs, scratching the back of his head—one of the tells that he’s nervous. “Oh, ha! That! I was training yesterday after you left, and, uh, I tripped.”

“ _Tripped_?”

“Yep! I know, I know, super embarrassing…”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. He’s certain Naruto’s lying. What about, or why he would feel the need to, Sasuke doesn’t know. But he decides to let it go for now.

“Loser,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and knocking their shoulders together.

* * *

Here’s something to know about Sasuke Uchiha: he has one friend, and that friend is Naruto Uzumaki.

He’s always known who Naruto was, from the moment he entered the Academy. He’s _that kid_ —the one everyone is supposed to stay away from, for reasons unknown and that the adults refuse to share. Sasuke decided on sight that he couldn’t stand him—though not for the same reasons as everyone else.

Sasuke didn’t know, at seven years old, why the entirety of Konoha seemed to scorn a single child’s existence. He still doesn’t know. But while the rest of their classmates were turning their backs on him because _he’s that boy my parents told me to stay away from_ , Sasuke was doing it for a much simpler reason.

Naruto was just _annoying_.

(He’s still annoying, though Sasuke’s grown almost fond of it now.)

He knew, even then, that Naruto was an orphan. That he didn’t have a family. But it hadn’t meant anything to him at that time—not until months later, when he had lost his own.

( _We’re the same._ )

Their friendship started with a punch—Naruto’s fist cracking against Kiba Inuzuka’s nose, his blue eyes bright with fire. Sasuke doesn’t even remember what his classmate said—some spitting remark about his family deserving what they got. And Naruto _reacted_.

The rest of the class was shocked by the callous words, too—but Naruto was the only one to get angry. He was the only one to stand up.

Because he understood, Sasuke realized then. Not just how it felt to be an orphan, to be without parents—he understood what it felt like to be hated by the very village he lived in, that he was a part of.

He _understands_ , in ways sometimes even Itachi doesn’t.

* * *

For once, the universe smiles upon him, and Sasuke gets his wish of being on a team with his best friend. Unfortunately, his team also includes Sakura Haruno, his own personal stalker, but Sasuke supposes it could be worse.

He could have gotten stuck with _Kiba_.

“This is _amazing_!” Naruto says, once again swinging his arm around Sasuke’s neck (it’s an annoying habit of his, and Sasuke has given up on trying to shove him off). “I’m on a team with my best friend _and_ Sakura-chan! I told you Iruka-sensei loves me!”

Ignoring his comment regarding Sakura— _seriously, what does he see in her?_ —Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Idiot. He doesn’t pick the teams, the Hokage does.”

(He ignores the hot curl of anger in his gut at the Sandaime having any say over his life. _Bastard—_ )

“Whatever! Either way, it’s great! I wonder who our sensei will be? I hope they’re someone really cool who can teach me tons of awesome jutsu—”

There’s an obnoxious snort from across the classroom. “I wouldn’t bet on it. He’s probably really _lame_.”

Sasuke stiffens in his desk chair, turning his head. In the row of desks on the opposite side of the classroom, Kiba Inuzuka is grinning at them. It’s not a friendly grin—it’s mocking, and Sasuke feels his hackles immediately rise in response.

“A _lame_ sensei for _lame_ students,” Kiba says. He’s clearly attempting to provoke them, and Sasuke has to grab the back of Naruto’s jacket as the blonde attempts to lunge from his desk.

“Hey!” Ino yells shrilly. “Who are you calling _lame_? Sasuke-kun’s the best in class! He’s way cooler than _you_ , Kiba! And why are you assuming the sensei is a man, huh? That’s sexist!”

Next to her Shikamaru sighs, looking utterly done with the situation. “Ah, man. What a drag.”

Chouji snacks loudly on a bag of chips. Akumaru barks from Kiba’s hair.

“Yeah!” Naruto yells, shaking Sasuke’s grip off his collar and standing up. “Sasuke’s way cooler than you are! And so am I! You shouldn’t flap your loud mouth so much, you know!”

Sasuke sighs, resisting the urge to bury his head in his arms. _Pot, meet kettle,_ he thinks. Naruto doesn’t even realize he might as well be talking about himself; he has zero self-awareness.

He allows their steadily-rising bickering to become background noise, having no desire to participate in their childish antics. He does, however, remain slightly attuned to Naruto’s body next to him, just in case it escalates and he has to stop the idiot from punching Kiba’s face in.

 _Children,_ Sasuke thinks with another eye-roll, stapling his hands under his chin and closing his eyes. _All of them._

Naruto’s loud voice as he yells is a familiar sound by now. After a lifetime of being dismissed and ostracized, Naruto continues to believe that being as loud as possible is the only way to get himself noticed. Sasuke is the opposite—he doesn’t want anyone in the village to acknowledge him, he just wants them to stop hissing _traitor_ at him under their breaths.

(Konoha slaughtered his family—people who were meant to be their comrades. Sasuke has never betrayed them, they’ve betrayed _him_.)

Sasuke shakes the bitter thoughts away—something he’s become well-practiced at. His thoughts turn to Naruto; to the shallow scratch on his cheek, and how it’s connected to his new genin headband.

Naruto bombed the exam yesterday. Sasuke stood only feet behind him, as he failed to produce a simple clone. Sasuke knew he wouldn’t be able to do it; they’ve been training together for years now, and his friend still struggles with molding his chakra into a jutsu, no matter how patiently Sasuke tries to work with him.

(Sasuke had been able to perform the clone jutsu for a while now, and would’ve been able to graduate early, except that Itachi had refused to sign off on it.

 _“Don’t grow up too fast. I never got to be a kid. You still can.”_ )

Sasuke knows Naruto didn’t pass his exam. He couldn’t have. So why did Iruka promote him to genin? What happened yesterday after they trained together, and why doesn’t Naruto want to tell him about it?

“Um… Sasuke-kun?”

He twitches in irritation as the familiar voice intrudes in his thoughts. He opens his eyes, looking sideways at Sakura on the chair to the right of him. “What?”

She twirls her pink hair around one of her fingers—a nervous habit. Sasuke supposes he can see why Naruto would find her pretty—her features are nice, aesthetically speaking. But he feels no type of attraction toward her, and her love-struck gaze makes him uncomfortable.

Sasuke wonders, briefly, if his lack of interest is normal. But he dismisses the concern almost immediately, because he can’t be bothered to care about such things.

“We have a bit of time before our sensei is supposed to be here,” Sakura says. “I thought we could go talk to each other somewhere while we wait… Did you maybe want to go outside?”

“Not really.”

Sakura looks slightly discouraged at the reply, before perking back up again. “But I thought it would be good for us to get to know each other better. Since we’re going to be on the same team! Just the two of us—”

“Naruto’s on our team, too,” Sasuke reminds her, a bit pointedly. “Why don’t you go hang out with him? I’m sure he’d be delighted.”

The smile on her face becomes fixed. Her eyes dart behind Sasuke to their blonde classmate, as she attempts to hide her disdain. “Oh. Um… well…”

Naruto has moved on from Kiba, and now appears to be having an argument with Shikamaru—though the Nara boy doesn’t seem very interested in participating. Naruto has gotten up on the desk, his dirty shoes scuffing up the surface, and is leaning into Shikamaru’s face, pointing at the headband on his head.

“It’s _mine_! Clearly, Iruka-sensei knows I’m smarter than any of you losers here—”

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “Oh please—”

Sakura shakes her head before turning back to Sasuke. “Look at him,” she says, with a sudden holier-than-thou air. “He’s so _annoying_. Clearly he never had any parents to teach him better—”

Sasuke goes cold. Instantly, his slight irritation slides into outright _anger_. Not the hot kind that he’s used to, that boils in his chest and threatens to explode out of him. This anger is quieter, like ice—more like Itachi’s.

“Naruto is my friend,” Sasuke tells her.

His tone causes her to pale. She seems to realize she said something that was very much _not okay_ , because she attempts instantly to backtrack. “Of course he is! I’m sorry! That was rude of me—it’s really kind of you to put up with him when no one else does—”

The assumption that he’s friends with Naruto out of _pity_ only makes his anger go colder. He wants to snap at her, but he isn’t one to waste any words. So instead, he turns his back on her and doesn’t speak again.

She seems to get the message.

An hour goes by, and their assigned sensei doesn’t show up. Two of the other sensei show up at the classroom door, and the rest of their classmates steadily trickle out, leaving the three of them alone in the room. After another twenty minutes, Naruto begins to grow antsy.

He jumps from his seat, grabbing the chalkboard eraser and jamming it in the top of the door. Sasuke rolls his eyes.

“He’s a _jounin_ , Naruto. He’s not going to fall for a stupid trick like—”

The door opens, and the eraser lands on top of a head of spiky silver hair.

(Their sensei was _late_. Looking back, it should have been obvious who was going to walk through that door.)

Standing in front of him is a familiar masked man with gravity-defying silver hair. He brushes the chalk-dust from the top of his head, glancing at the eraser and then up at them.

“Hmm,” Kakashi Hatake says. “I think I’m going to hate all of you.”

Sasuke stares at the jounin—the same jounin that stopped by his house for dinner only two days ago.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he asks. The answer is clearly obvious, but the denial in him is strong. He wants it to be some sort of practical joke.

Kakashi walks fully into the room, reaching out to pat Sasuke on the head in a patronizing manner. “I’m your new sensei, Sasuke-kun. Isn’t it wonderful?” 

Sasuke stares at him in dawning realization. “ _No_.”

Kakashi’s eye curves into a sadistic smile. “ _Yes._ ”

Sasuke feels nothing but complete horror. Sakura turns to look at him curiously.

“You know him?” she asks.

Sasuke drops his head onto the desk in front of him.

* * *

Here’s something to know about Itachi Uchiha: like Sasuke, he has only one friend. That friend is Kakashi Hatake.

They’re in ANBU together. Sasuke isn’t sure what exactly happened to cause their relationship to go from _work colleagues_ to _friends_ , but sometime around when he was eight, not too long after the massacre, the man began to stop by their apartment. Once became twice became three times, and eventually, a third plate at the dinner table became a common occurrence.

Kakashi is his brother’s senior by eight years—and his former captain, which Sasuke is ninety percent certain is classified information he’s not supposed to know about. He’s probably the only other member of ANBU besides Itachi that Sasuke doesn’t actively despise.

(The only other member of ANBU that he doesn’t associate with _that night_ , a gleaming blade slicing through his mother’s chest—)

His left eye might have something to do with that—it bears a Sharingan, given to him during the last war by a fallen teammate. Kakashi isn’t an Uchiha by blood, but the doujutsu in his eye grants him his place as an honorary one. He doesn’t hate the Uchiha like the rest of the ANBU Black Ops—Sasuke can trust him.

 _Trust_ isn’t synonymous with _like_ , however. Because apart from being a renowned ninja, his name known throughout all lands through his place in the Bingo Book, he’s also _the most frustrating person Sasuke has ever met._

Naruto and Sakura may be excited to have someone like the legendary _Copy Ninja_ responsible for their training, but they don’t know him like Sasuke does. They’ve never had him show up three hours late to a training session, or had him drop them into an icy lake in the middle of winter.

This is going to be a _nightmare_.

* * *

“You _knew_ ,” Sasuke accuses, as he comes through the door of the apartment half an hour later.

Itachi looks up from the papers on the table in front of him, holding a highlighter between his teeth and looking slightly frazzled. “Huh?”

Sasuke slides his shoes off at the door, dropping his backpack to the floor as he walks over to the kitchen table, crossing his arms across his chest. “ _Kakashi_. You _knew_ he was going to be my sensei.”

Itachi pauses. His lips twitch slightly as he takes the highlighter into his fingers. “Oh, that. Yes, I knew.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“ _Asshole_ ,” Sasuke says, as he falls into the chair on the opposite side of the table.

“Language,” Itachi says, though he sounds too distracted for the word to be a real reprimand. He’s squinting down at the papers in front of him, his bangs tucked behind his ear to avoid them falling into his eyes.

There’s no real anger behind Sasuke’s words, and he feels it dissipate almost the moment he sits down. He relaxes into the chair, leaning forward to peer at the papers that have his brother’s attention. “What are you doing?”

“New prospects for members of the Police Force. I have to go through the applications and then fill out an official form for each person I accept.”

Sasuke thumbs through the stack of papers. “There’s a lot of them. Are there usually this many?”

“A lot of people applied this year.”

Sasuke hums noncommittally, leaning back. He doesn’t envy his brother—being head of the clan seems like such tedious, time-consuming work; and he already spends so much time consumed by his ANBU duties without adding managing the Police Force to the list. It’s been this way since their parents died, and it doesn’t seem fair that Itachi has so much responsibility heaped onto him.

“Surely it won’t be that bad,” Itachi says, glancing up from his work to look at him. “Having Kakashi as your sensei? He’s a remarkable shinobi.”

“I don’t know if I’d go _that_ far.”

Itachi smirks slightly. “But you used to think he was ‘ _so totally cool_ ’.”

Sasuke scowls at the mocking words—a direct quote of something his eight-year-old self once proclaimed with starry eyes. “Shut up. Won’t you forget about that already?”

“Never.”

Sasuke huffs. After a moment, he begins to actually think about the question his brother asked. “I suppose Kakashi being my sensei isn’t the _worst_ thing.”

“Such a ringing endorsement, otouto. He’ll be flattered.”

Sasuke watches as Itachi puts aside one of the forms, exchanging it for the next one in the pile. His eyes scan over the small words. He looks _exhausted_ , and Sasuke feels spark of concern shoot through him.

“I can help.”

Itachi smiles briefly, but shakes his head. “It’s fine, Sasuke. I can do it.”

Sasuke frowns, his gaze drawn to the circles under the seventeen-year-old’s eyes. “You take too much on by yourself.”

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“ _Nii-san_. Let me help.”

Itachi pauses at the tone. He sighs, his shoulders dropping. Reluctantly acquiescing, he grabs a portion of the pile of papers, sliding them over to Sasuke’s side of the table.

“Fine,” he says. Then, after another moment: “…Thank you.”

Sasuke pulls the first application in front of him, taking the pen Itachi offered him. He leans his head over the table to get to work, and the rest of the time between them is spent in companionable silence.

* * *

Kakashi, as it turns out, is actually a competent teacher. Maybe not the best, but he’s not the worst, either.

They manage to pass the bell test, even if they don’t get the bells. The answer was teamwork, which Sasuke figured out due to knowing Kakashi so well. He would’ve teamed up with Naruto anyway, but if he didn’t realize the true meaning of the test, he probably wouldn’t have worked with Sakura.

Sasuke wants to blame Sakura for her complete incompetence—but he knows it isn’t all her fault. She comes from a civilian family, so her only introduction into the shinobi world came from the Academy—and their curriculum is exceedingly poor. They don’t even teach _chakra control_.

Sasuke had Itachi to teach him—and Naruto had Sasuke. Sakura didn’t have that growing up.

Naruto and Sasuke both already know how to direct their chakra to the balls of their feet, so when Kakashi proposes they train in tree-walking, they sit it out. Sakura is the only one who doesn’t know, but she catches on extremely quickly. She’s a novice in most areas of skill, but she excels at chakra control. She masters it quicker than Sasuke did when Itachi taught him.

Water is harder, but she gets the hang of it. Kakashi makes him and Naruto practice sparring on the water, since they already know how to stand on it. Though Sasuke suspects he only does this so he has an excuse to knock Sasuke into the lake and make it look like his own fault.

He comes home soaking wet. Itachi laughs at him.

A couple of weeks pass. Between their training, Team Seven take on multiple D-Rank missions. They have to go to the mission desk to receive them; sometimes the Hokage is there, and seeing his face always puts Sasuke in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

Itachi takes missions, too. His schedule is always busy. Sometimes he’s there when Sasuke gets home, and sometimes he isn’t. Sometimes Kakashi forces himself through the door, to make sure Sasuke’s alright when Itachi is off on an assignment that’s particularly long.

“How is your brother?” Naruto asks one day during training. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s overworking himself. As usual.”

“He should take a vacation.”

Sasuke smiles slightly. “I don’t think he knows what that word means.”

The three of them are sitting together eating lunch, while Kakashi has gone off somewhere to do something. He said he would be back in five minutes, but none of them are surprised when it’s been over twice that long and he still hasn’t returned.

“Kakashi-sensei has no concept of time, does he?” Sakura says, shaking her head as she snacks on her bento.

“He’s just doing it to mess with us,” Naruto says. “He _totally_ knows how late he is. No one is buying his stupid excuses. Do you remember the one he used last time? He said he got caught in the rain! _It wasn’t even raining_!”

Sasuke thinks about the numerous times he caught a lone, silver-haired figure holding vigil at the Memorial Stone in the cemetery. He doesn’t say anything.

Sakura is still annoying and clingy, trying to be close to him at every opportunity. Her infatuation with him hasn’t faded in the slightest, even though Sasuke shows no signs of reciprocating. And she’s still rude and dismissive toward Naruto—though she never makes any other remarks about his lack of parents, which Sasuke supposes is an improvement.

Naruto is normal. Except for brief moments where he gets super twitchy, like when Sakura was telling them about Mizuki-sensei being labeled a rogue ninja.

( _“I can’t believe it! He always did seem slightly creepy to me, but still…”_ )

Sasuke knows he’s hiding something. But whenever he tries to ask what’s wrong, Naruto always brushes him off and tells him he’s imagining things.

After over a month of being placed on Team Seven, Kakashi decides to teach them about chakra natures. Sasuke knows the basics of them—how all ninjutsu is rooted in five primary elements—but they’re finally getting into the things that he doesn’t already know, so he pays close attention.

Kakashi supplies them with a small piece of paper meant to determine their chakra nature. Sakura’s turns to dirt and crumbles away—an earth nature. Naruto’s splits in half—wind.

Nearly all members of the Uchiha Clan have fire natures. That’s why _Katon_ is their signature jutsu—why you aren’t considered a real member of the clan until you can perform it. When Sasuke takes the paper into his hand, he fully expects it to catch fire and turn to ashes.

He’s surprised when the paper wrinkles instead.

Kakashi blinks. “Huh,” he says, also looking surprised. “What do you know. A lightning nature. Just like me.”

It’s not like every Uchiha in their clan’s entire history had a fire nature. There have been a handful of notable exceptions. But it’s very rare, and definitely considered to be outside the norm. Sasuke walks home to his apartment with the wrinkled square of paper still in his hands, staring down at it.

_A lightning nature, huh?_

“It makes sense,” Itachi says when he tells him, taking the singed paper between his own two fingers.

Sasuke frowns. “It does?”

“Do you remember when I taught you the fireball jutsu? How long it took you to master it properly?”

“Yes.”

“For most of our clan, that jutsu is one that comes naturally. Like breathing. But you actually had to _work_ for it. I remember how hard you pushed yourself. If your chakra wasn’t naturally attuned to fire—then it makes sense that it took you longer than it took me.”

Sasuke always thought his initial failure to perform the fireball jutsu was a testament of his inferiority when it came to his brother. Because Itachi was a genius, and someone like Sasuke would never be able to reach his level. To hear that there might have been more to it… maybe he isn’t a disappointment after all.

“I wonder if Kakashi will teach me Chidori,” he wonders.

Itachi smiles. “Don’t hold your breath. That’s a signature jutsu—shinobi rarely teach others those. It’s a matter of pride.”

“Whatever. I bet I could do it.”

* * *

After two and a half months of D-Rank missions, Naruto finally snaps. Sasuke is surprised it takes so long for it to happen.

Sasuke doesn’t participate much in the conversation—if it can be called that—that leads to Team Seven receiving their first C-Rank mission. Naruto is throwing what amounts to a childish tantrum, even sitting down on the floor with his arms crossed at one point. Kakashi is looking increasingly embarrassed by his student’s behavior, and Sakura is looking at Naruto like he’s something gross that’s stuck on her shoe.

Sasuke, meanwhile, is clenching his jaw. His hand is tight around the hilt of the sword at his hip—the sword Itachi bought him for his eighth birthday.

The Third Hokage is in front of him. This is hardly the first time Sasuke has been forced to face him in the mission room, but the feeling of simmering anger in his chest never becomes any less pronounced. Staring at him in his official robes—seeing him act so _kind_ and _fair_ —is infuriating.

Sometimes, Sasuke thinks of how it would feel to let Amaterasu peel away at his flesh—just like those two ANBU agents who tried to kill him as a kid. He would never actually do it, but it’s a nice fantasy and it serves to distract him.

Kakashi senses his silent anger. As he speaks to the Sandaime, he reaches over to place a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder.

(Sasuke can smell the blood and see the white masks. He hears his mother screaming his name.

 _“No! Sasuke!”_ )

Team Seven gets their first C-Rank mission—they are to escort a bridge builder to the Land of Waves. Sasuke leaves the room with his knuckles white around his sword, the taste of blood in his mouth.

Kakashi’s grip on his shoulder is bruising.

* * *

Itachi isn’t pleased with the news that they’ve been assigned a C-Rank mission. He worries that they aren’t ready, that something will happen. Sasuke rolls his eyes at his overprotective tendencies, trying not to feel irritated at his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities.

“Would you stop treating me like I’m still eight?” he complains. “It’s a simple escort mission. When you were my age, you were already in ANBU.”

Itachi is currently dressed in his ANBU gear, complete with the mask clipped to his belt. Like Sasuke, he also has a mission. It’s classified, as usual, so Sasuke isn’t allowed any details. He doesn’t know how long his brother will be gone, or if he’ll be back by the time Sasuke returns.

“I know,” Itachi says. “I just worry. You’ve never been outside of the village before.”

“Yes, and the fact that I haven’t is completely ridiculous. They can’t keep me _caged_ here, Itachi.”

Itachi’s mouth pulls down slightly, but he doesn’t address the bitter words. He reaches out, straightening Sasuke’s hitai-ate.

“I know the mission is meant to be a simple escort. But if you have to fight, remember not to use your Mangekyou unless you have to.”

“I know.”

To this day, no one knows about Sasuke’s Mangekyou Sharingan except Itachi; not even Kakashi is aware of it. Sasuke knows how dangerous it is for him to possess it, and the only time he’s used any of its powers was during the attack on him at eight.

Itachi brushes his bangs gently out of his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, he leans down and wraps his arms around his younger brother in a hug.

“Be careful,” Itachi says.

Sasuke hugs his brother back, clutching tightly at the back of his vest and burying his face in his shoulder. “You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was a rare sort of breed called "angst-free" (mostly)! If you know me by now, you know I rarely write things without angst :P So enjoy this never-before-seen rarity, because the heartbreak will be back in the next chapter :)


	7. i have come within range of hate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is more sasuke/team 7 focused than sasuke/itachi focused. I was going to brush over the majority of the Wave mission, but I decided it was a good opportunity for Team Seven to grow closer.
> 
> sorry the chapter took so long.

Team Seven arrives in the Land of Waves—and everything immediately goes to shit.

It actually starts before that, with the pair of high-level chuunin that attacks them just as they're reaching the border of Fire Country. Kakashi pretends to be violently killed, because he enjoys traumatizing his students, and Sasuke barely saves Naruto from being viciously ripped apart. Their simple C-Rank mission quickly becomes a B-Rank—possibly even an A-Rank.

Against better judgement, they decide to continue on instead of turning around.

 _Itachi isn't going to be happy about this,_ Sasuke thinks.

Once they reach the border, they take a boat to cross the water. It's a simple rowboat, no motors or engines, and they make sure to travel under the cover of the fog so no one sees them.

As it turns out, a powerful tycoon by the name of Gato has taken over the Land of Waves. On the surface, he's no more than the founder of a large shipping company, but secretly, he's the owner of a smuggling business trafficking in drugs and other illegal goods. He's targeting Tazuna, the bridge builder, because the completion of the bridge will join the isolated island nation to the land, and break the control he holds.

But the Land of Waves is a nation seeped in poverty. They don't have enough money to pay for a higher-ranked mission.

"Why hasn't Konoha tried to help Wave before now?" Sakura asks.

Sasuke scoffs, scorn in his voice. "Why the hell would they? It doesn't benefit _them_."

Kakashi shoots him a warning look.

Tazuna pulls the guilt-trip card to get the four of them to agree to continue on—weeping crocodile tears about his poor grandson and daughter. Sasuke isn't completely unmoved, but he still can't help but roll his eyes at the melodramatic display.

" _Seriously_?" Sasuke says, when he sees his friend is holding back tears.

Naruto sniffs, rubbing his eyes. "It's just so sad! Kakashi-sensei, we have to help them out!"

Kakashi sighs, his expression showing he's also weak to emotional manipulation. "Well, I guess we have no choice. We'll continue guarding you."

Beneath the rim of his hat, Tazuna's heartbroken expression disappears. The old man smirks as his scam is successful.

Sasuke rolls his eyes again. "Unbelievable. All of you are dumb."

"Sasuke," Naruto says, punching him on the shoulder. "Are you really saying we shouldn't help? What else are we supposed to do?"

"Sasuke-kun could be right," Sakura says. "We haven't been trained for a mission like this. It's too dangerous for us."

"Show me the danger! I'll kick its ass!"

Sasuke frowns, tapping his thumb against the metal hilt of his sword. Even if they are underqualified for this mission, he can't deny that he wants to continue on. Because it's the right thing to do, yes, but also for selfish reasons.

He wants to prove he can do it—that he's capable of taking on a mission like this. He wants to prove he's just as good as his brother.

He loves Itachi. He's the most important person in Sasuke's life, and he's been Sasuke's only lifeline through everything. But Itachi is also very suffocating. Stifling. And Sasuke understands why he is, understands he only wants to protect him, but Sasuke often feels that his brother's desire to keep him safe is holding him back.

More than that, he feels like Itachi doesn't have faith in him. That he still sees him as that traumatized seven-year-old that he had to hold together with his own arms.

When Itachi was Sasuke's age, he was a member of ANBU. Nearly every mission he received was A-Rank or S-Rank. And yet, when Team Seven were given their first C-Rank, he worried about whether Sasuke was ready, acting as if he were still an Academy student struggling to aim a kunai.

Itachi is always saying how great Sasuke's potential is—that he's going to surpass him someday. But at the same time, his overprotective nature continues to make it clear that he doubts Sasuke's ability to stand on his own.

It's a selfish motivation, when compared to his teammates' motivations of wanting to liberate this land from Gato's control. But it's the reason he agrees with the decision to go forward.

(Also, the idea that Konoha would leave these people to suffer just because they can't pay for proper assistance _pisses him off._ )

"Alright," Sasuke says. "I agree. We should help."

Naruto grins happily, swinging his arm around Sasuke's shoulder. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Sasuke glares at him. "If I die, I'm blaming you."

"That's fair."

"And you can explain to Itachi what happened."

" _What_? Shit, no! I change my mind, let's turn around—!"

Sakura laughs at the terrified expression on the blonde's face. "You're really that scared of Sasuke-kun's brother?"

" _Yes_!"

They take to land again, and are only walking for about ten minutes when trouble strikes them once more. This time, it takes the form of Zabuza Momochi—Demon of the Bloody Mist.

Sasuke knows he's a big deal immediately. Only someone who's a big deal would have a sword that badass-looking. It makes Sasuke's sword seem like a toothpick.

Which is exactly what Zabuza calls it, when Sasuke pulls it out and brandishes it at him.

 _Asshole_.

Zabuza attacks the five of them—Kakashi first, to get what he percieves as the real threat out of the way before attempting to kill the bridge builder. Kakashi pulls up his hitai-ate to reveal his Sharingan almost immediately, clueing Sasuke in to how serious this is.

Then he gets trapped in a Water Prison jutsu, and Naruto and Sasuke are forced to rescue him. At one point during the scuffle, Sasuke gets stomped on. Instinctively, he wants to use his Mangekyou—but he forces the urge back, allowing Naruto's clones to pull Zabuza off of him instead.

 _When did he learn that?_ Sasuke thinks, staring at the clones in wide-eyed shock. _During the graduation exam, he couldn't make even a single clone!_

In the end, it's a hunter-nin who takes Zabuza down. But there's something strange about the encounter.

"He took Zabuza's body with him," Sasuke says with a frown.

Kakashi turns his head to look at him. "Noticed that too, did you?"

Sasuke frowns. But his thoughts soon turn back to Naruto... to those dozens of clones he produced so easily. If he could do that, why couldn't he create just one while at the Academy?

"Sasuke-kun, are you okay?" Sakura asks, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It looked like he really hurt you when he stomped on you."

Sasuke winces at the pain he suddenly becomes aware of, how it hurts to inhale too deeply. There's blood in his mouth.

"I'm fine—"

"You're not," Kakashi interrupts. "There's blood on your lips, which means at least one of your ribs is splintered. Can you breathe?"

"It hurts slightly," he admits reluctantly, "but yes."

"Walk slowly. Once we reach Tazuna's house, I'll check you out. Let's get moving—using my Sharingan for so long has tired me out."

Sasuke scowls. "I'm telling Itachi I nearly died because of you."

Kakashi pales.

"You're just mad because that Zabuza guy insulted your sword," Naruto says.

Sasuke clenches his jaw. "He called it a toothpick."

"It _is_ a toothpick."

"Hey! My brother bought me this sword!"

"What, when you were eight?"

"...Yes."

* * *

It's sometime later, when Team Seven has arrived at Tazuna's house, that they come to the conclusion that Zabuza isn't actually dead. They're sitting in a guest bedroom upstairs, and Sasuke has discarded his shirt so Kakashi can wrap his injured ribs.

"You should be fine to still fight," he says. "Only one of your ribs was splintered, and the rest are just bruised. But take it easy, okay?"

They're interrupted by a moody brat—the bridge builder's grandson. Naruto, the meddling dumbass, screams at the kid and then chases after him. Sasuke doesn't know what happens, but the blonde returns to the room looking unusually somber.

Zabuza is going to be coming after them again soon—maybe with that boy that's working with him. There isn't really anything they can do now, as Kakashi recovers his chakra.

Tazuna's daughter, Tsunami, offers to cook them a meal. Sakura declines, remaining upstairs with their sensei.

Tsunami is nothing like her father. She's really nice—and she reminds Sasuke a lot of his own mother, almost painfully so. He catches himself staring at her a few times, imagining her skin a bit paler.

Naruto looks between the two of them. When she turns her back on the table, he grins, elbowing Sasuke conspiratorially in the side.

" _Ow_ ," Sasuke hisses, glaring at his friend for forgetting about his bruised ribs.

"Sasuke," Naruto whispers. "You have a crush on her, don't you?"

"What? I do _not_!"

"You don't have to lie. I saw you staring. I guess she's pretty cute, if you're into older women—"

"I don't have a _crush_ , loser!"

"Yeah, _sure_ —"

"I don't! It's not like that!"

Tsunami leaves the room to go check up on her son, telling the two of them to come to her if there's anything they need. Sasuke and Naruto are left alone, and Sasuke turns to his friend.

Naruto is scarfing down his meal like a starving man. Sasuke pulls a face at the sight. "You're disgusting. Have some manners, would you?"

"I'm _starving_!"

"I gathered that much. If you keep eating so fast, you're just gonna throw it up."

Naruto doesn't respond, but he appears to make an effort to slow down his eating.

"When did you learn to make shadow clones like that?" Sasuke asks.

Naruto looks over at him. "Huh?"

"Barely a month ago, you couldn't even make a single regular clone. Now you can make dozens of shadow clones perfectly?"

"What, are you saying I'm weak?"

Sasuke scowls. "You know that's not what I'm saying, moron. But I've never seen you use that technique before. And you usually can't wait to show off to me the moment you learn something new. So what gives?"

Naruto avoids his eyes. "It's just something I learned, okay?"

"Is it why Iruka-sensei ended up passing you?" Sasuke asks. Naruto doesn't respond, his expression shifty, and Sasuke glares at him. " _Naruto_. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?"

Guilt flickers through Naruto's eyes. He looks away.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sasuke. I'm not hiding anything."

He's a horrible liar. Sasuke's chest tightens with hurt, which he's sure is visible on his face. His best friend is keeping secrets from him. Sasuke's never kept anything from Naruto—he's even confessed to him his hatred of Konoha, something he doesn't even talk about to Itachi.

The only thing he hasn't told Naruto about is his Mangekyou Sharingan—but that's different, and not the same thing as what Naruto's doing now.

"You know how I feel about people lying to me," Sasuke says, his voice tight. "If there's a reason you can't tell me, you should've just said that. You don't have to lie to my face."

Naruto winces. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever."

Sasuke stands up. He washes his dish off under the faucet before setting it in the sink, then he turns around and leaves the kitchen.

 _He doesn't trust me_ , Sasuke thinks as he walks back up the stairs. The realization stings more than he expected it to.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds that Sakura is sleeping, curled up in the green sleeping bag Kakashi was previously occupying. Kakashi is leaning against the wall, his dumb book in his hand, and when he notices Sasuke entering, he raises a finger to his lips.

Sasuke glares at him. "Are you seriously reading that _now_?" he demands, keeping his voice low to not wake his teammate.

The jounin shrugs. "Sure. Why not?"

Sasuke doesn't understand how this man can possibly be friends with his brother. He doesn't think he's ever met two people who are more different.

"We're being hunted down by a dangerous assassin, and you're reading _porn_."

Kakashi makes a face of extreme offense. "Porn? This is fine literature! It has a compelling plot and characters, and to liken it to porn just because it has a few explicit passages—"

"I don't care. Shouldn't we be figuring out how to deal with Zabuza?"

Kakashi sighs, finally lowering the book. "What do you want us to do, Sasuke? We have no idea where the hunter-nin took him, and our priority is to guard Tazuna. We've been traveling all day, not to mention all of the fighting we did. We're all worn out and due for a rest."

Sasuke glances toward the window. To his surprise, he sees that the sky is already beginning to darken. He didn't realize it was already evening—they'd left Konoha early in the morning.

"Get some sleep, Sasuke," Kakashi says, gesturing toward the floor next to Sakura. "Our problems will still be here in the morning."

Sasuke hesitates—but he can't deny that he's beginning to feel a lack of energy. The events of the day are starting to catch up to him. And his bruised ribs are still dully throbbing.

"Fine," he says, pulling out his own sleeping bag. As much as he thinks sleeping is wasting valuable time, he also knows he's at his best when he's well-rested. "But you need to sleep too, idiot."

"Don't talk to your sensei like that."

"I always talk to you like that."

Kakashi's visible eye rolls. "Go to sleep, brat. I'll get mine once Naruto gets back up here."

Sasuke is quickly reminded of the conversation he just had downstairs when he hears the name. He attempts to swallow the hurt in his chest down.

He lays his sleeping bag next to Sakura and slips inside, but not before snatching the copy of _Icha Icha Paradise_ from Kakashi's hand.

"Hey!"

Sasuke glares at him. "I'll give it back to you in the morning."

"You are aware that _I'm_ the adult here, right?"

"And yet, you're the one behaving like a child."

Kakashi shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything else. Sasuke closes his eyes, attempting to get comfortable. He can hear Sakura's even breathing behind him.

He can't get over the fact that Naruto lied to him—straight to his face. Sure, they've told stupid fibs to each other before, but nothing like this. Something has clearly changed with his best friend, something serious, so why is he so determined to pretend like nothing's happened?

Does Naruto really not trust him? Sasuke's always trusted _him_ , admitting to him things he hasn't even told his brother.

( _"I really hate this village. Sometimes, I think about leaving it behind. I would, if I didn't know Itachi would never come with me."_ )

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Sasuke opens his eyes, looking up from the floor at his sensei. His face must have given away his troubled thoughts.

"Nothing," he says. "I'm fine."

"You're shit at lying."

"I am _not_."

"Okay, no," Kakashi admits. "You're actually pretty decent. But your brother's far better, and if I can see though him, I can _definitely_ see through you."

Sasuke scowls at the words. He's far too used to his brother being better at him than everything, no matter how much he excels. The exception being cooking, of course.

Sasuke pushes himself up on his elbow, his head against his hand. "Naruto's keeping something from me—and he's _lying_ to me now."

Kakashi looks thoughtful at the words. Sasuke watches his face closely, but he can't tell whether he's surprised or not.

"He doesn't trust me," Sasuke says.

"I don't think that's the reason."

The genin narrows his eyes. "So you know what he's hiding from me?"

"Yes," Kakashi says. "At least, I suspect what it is."

"But you're not going to tell me?"

"No."

Sasuke huffs. With a feeling of frustration, he drops his head back down. "Well, thanks for not lying at least."

* * *

The next day, Tazuna goes early in the morning to continue his work on the bridge. Naruto is completely dead to the world, snoring loudly and drooling on his sleeping bag, so Kakashi sends Sasuke and Sakura to guard their cliient.

Sakura complains about beauty sleep and that it's not fair Naruto gets to sleep in. But when she hears that Sasuke is coming along with her, she squeals and immediately stops protesting.

Sasuke is actually fine with this, as annoying as his female teammate can be. He doesn't want to talk to Naruto right now.

They've been sitting on the dock for over an hour now, watching the proceedings. Sakura nodded off against his shoulder once, which Sasuke hadn't tolerated for more than five seconds. He's fairly certain she was pretending.

"Do you think that Zabuza guy is really going to come after us again?" Sakura asks.

"He'll come after Tazuna," Sasuke says. "If he's really working for Gato, he won't stop until the plans for this bridge are stopped. That's why we're still here—our original mission was just to escort Tazuna home."

A nervous look enters Sakura's green eyes. "This is way out of our league. You don't think we should have gone home?"

Sasuke shrugs slightly and doesn't respond. He thinks of the look of surprise and pride that will be on his brother's face when he tells him he helped bring down the Demon of the Hidden Mist.

"Do you remember what Zabuza said," says Sakura, "about the graduation exam for shinobi in Kirigakure? How the kids have to kill each other? Do you think that's actually true?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"That's _horrible_!"

Sasuke shrugs. He's so used to the harshness of shinobi life. He's an Uchiha, it was decided he would fight before he took his first breath. He forgets how awful it must seem to someone like Sakura, who comes from a completely civilian background.

"Konoha's not much better," he says. "My brother killed for the first time when he was four. Kakashi was six."

Sakura is aware that their sensei is his brother's friend, so it isn't a surprise to her that he knows something like that.

Sakura swallows. Sasuke thinks this might be the exact moment it sinks in for her—what choosing the life of a shinobi really means.

Sasuke thinks about it, and he feels a surge of bitterness rise in his chest. For Konoha, who people like to pretend is better and more evolved than other nations—but really, it isn't.

The only real difference between the Mist and the Leaf is that the Mist doesn't bother to hide how bloody it is.

The memory of blood-soaked streets fills his head. His mother screaming his name as a sword slices down on him. And his strong, immovable brother falling apart in his arms.

Itachi's sobs are a sound he'll never forget. The one and only time he witnessed his brother break.

Because of _Konoha_.

"Sasuke-kun?"

Sasuke flinches when Sakura touches his arm, snapped abruptly out of the memories. Sakura looks startled, drawing her hand back quickly.

"I'm sorry, Sasuke-kun! I was just... Are you okay?"

Itachi's sobs and his clan's screams still echo in his ears. Sasuke grits his teeth, nails digging into his palms. He feels the anger sparking just beneath his skin—the anger he's been forced to disguise for years.

But he thinks of the Sandaime and the two elders—still alive and kicking, unlike Danzo. Watching him like fucking hawks for any sign that he's disloyal. Looking for any excuse to take him and Itachi out, just like the rest of their clan.

And for the thousandth time, he grits his teeth and bites the anger back.

“I’m fine,” Sasuke says roughly, forcing the memories away.

"Sasuke-kun—"

" _I’m fine_."

They stay there for the rest of the afternoon, sitting next to each other on the bench and not speaking. Sakura makes a few tentative attempts to restart conversation, but stops when Sasuke makes it clear that he isn't in the mood.

The silence between them is heavy. Sakura's face is troubled when she looks at him. Sasuke's jaw is clenched, his hands curled into fists, as he festers with resentment toward Konoha.

This resentment only grows when Tazuna gets off work, taking the two of them with him into the main part of town. The streets are filled with poverty, and the people there make him feel sick to look at. Dirty and starving, their bones poking out of their skin.

Children, begging for scraps of food.

Sakura offers one of them a few candies from her bag. His guant face lights up in delight, as if she's offered him a feast.

Her green eyes fill up with tears. Before Sasuke can think to shove her away, she's burying her face in his chest.

"Sasuke-kun," she says, her voice shaking. "We have to _help_ them."

Sasuke doesn't know what to do, as he struggles to bite down the instincts that yell at him to _stop her from touching him_. He raises his arm, attempting to imitate his brother.

Konoha should have been helping these people. Their island neighbors the Land of Fire, only a few acres of water between them.

"We will," Sasuke tells her. "I promise."

* * *

That evening, Sasuke helps Tazuna's daughter with the meal.

Sasuke is good at cooking. He likes doing it. Traditionally, it's considered to be a women's activity, but Sasuke thinks those old-fashioned beliefs are bullshit. He enjoys it because it's something his mother taught him, and it helps him to still feel close to her.

Cooking with Tsunami feels the same as cooking with his mom. More than just the physical resemblance, she has the same gentleness to her. The same _warmth_. When she speaks to him, directing him through the steps of the recipe, it's with a motherly affection.

It hurts—and yet, he finds himself gravitating toward that feeling.

He sits next to her when the meal is finished, everyone gathered around the table. Naruto seems to have spent the day bonding with Inari, because the young boy appears to have lost his bratty attitude. He smiles at Naruto across the table, with the same look of admiration held by the Sandaime's grandson.

Naruto doesn't look in Sasuke's direction during the entire meal. Sasuke doesn't look at him, either.

When everyone has cleaned their plates, Tsunami stands up and begins collecting the dishes.

"Thanks for the help with dinner, Sasuke-kun. I think this is the best meal I've made in a while."

To his mortification, he feels his pale skin heat up with a very visible blush. "No problem."

She smiles at him, turning away toward the sink.

Kakashi's eye curves up into a familiar expression. He leans across the table toward Sasuke, singsonging teasingly, "Someone has a _cruuush_ ~"

Sakura drops her fork in shock. "What?!"

"Shut _up_ ," Sasuke hisses, his blush darkening. "It's not fucking like that."

Kakashi flicks him hard on the forehead, reminiscent of his brother. "Watch your language."

Sasuke rubs the reddening spot, feeling strangely offended by the man appropriating the gesture.

* * *

That night, Sasuke dreams of Zabuza Momochi.

The Demon of the Mist is standing in the middle of Tazuna's house, his large sword hefted up and ready to swing. Tsunami is in front of him, shielding her son in her arms, and little Inari has tears rolling down his face. Both of their eyes are wide in fright.

" _Please_ ," Tsunami begs. "Not my son!"

The scene is frighteningly familiar.

And suddenly, Zabuza's face is replaced by a white mask, his clothes by an ANBU uniform, his large blade by a katana. Tsunami's skin lightens, and she becomes Sasuke's mother. Inari becomes _Sasuke_ , seven years old and terrified—

"Please," Mikoto pleads. "Not my _son_!"

The sword comes down. Mikoto— _Tsunami_ —lunges forward to protect her child—

He wakes up with his head in Kakashi's lap. His fingers are combing through Sasuke's hair, the soothing motion lulling him back to sleep.

He misses his brother.

* * *

Sasuke spends the rest of the night thinking about Itachi—where he is, how his mission is going, if he's back home yet. He misses him so desperately that he's almost brought to tears.

And he knows it's stupid. He's not a little kid anymore, waking up from a bad dream and curling up in his brother's empty bed—because he's away on an ANBU mission and it's the closest he can get to him.

It's only been a few days. They've been apart for longer periods of time. But in the apartment, at least Itachi still felt somewhat _there_ , even when he was gone. This is Sasuke's first time out of Konoha, and he's never felt farther from his brother.

It's unhealthily dependent, but Sasuke doesn't care. He's _homesick_ , not for a place but a person.

As if sensing his feelings, a crow shows up on the windowsill in the morning.

Sasuke recognizes her immediately, a smile forming on his lips. "Asuka," he calls, holding out his arm for the bird to land on. "Hey, girl."

"Friend of yours?" Sakura asks with a raised eyebrow.

"She's my brother's."

"And he named her _Asuka_? That's a bit on the nose, isn't it?"

Sasuke scowls, choosing not to say that he'd been the one who named her (he'd been five, okay?).

There's a message tied to her foot. Sasuke feels his heart lighten when he sees it, and he smiles when he unrolls it to find his brother's familiar handwriting.

> _Sasuke,_
> 
> _I just returned home from my mission this morning, and I was surprised to find that you weren't already here. I spoke to the Hokage, and he said your team should have been back from your mission over a day ago. He also said I shouldn't worry, and that you've probably just stopped for a couple days of rest before beginning the trip back, but I can't help it. Are you doing alright? Nothing went wrong, did it?_
> 
> _Go ahead, call me overprotective. I know you're probably rolling your eyes at me as you're reading this. But I have a bad feeling about this mission. The last few times I didn't listen to it, I was right and I nearly lost you._
> 
> _If you're not on your way back now, please send a message back with Asuka telling me you're okay. I hope you'll be home soon._
> 
> _\--Itachi_
> 
> _P.S. If you're not okay, then Kakashi should just stay in Wave._

Sasuke snorts slightly at the last line, rolling his eyes fondly.

"What?" Sakura asks.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

He searches through his backpack for his own sheet of paper, so he can begin writing a response back. Asuka nudges his cheek with her cold beak; Sasuke strokes his finger over her black feathers.

"How is he doing? Okay?"

She makes a few soft clicking noises.

Sasuke begins the letter by mocking his brother for behaving like a mother hen—not letting on how much he misses him, or how comforted he actually was by the letter. He tells Itachi that "the worthless old man" is right for once, and that he shouldn't worry. The mission is going fine, and all four of them should be back in Konoha soon.

"You're not going to tell him?" Sakura asks, reading the letter over his shoulder as he writes.

"What for? He can't do anything from where he is. He'd just drive himself crazy with worry."

Sasuke rolls the message up, tying it to Asuka's leg. The crow takes off immediately, out the window and into the sky.

* * *

Kakashi and Sakura go with Tazuna that morning. Naruto and Sasuke stay at the house, in case Zabuza or other hired muscle show up there.

Sasuke's happier spending the day in Tsunami's company than in her father's. He isn't happy spending it in Naruto's, but he didn't get a choice.

"We need to be a united front if Zabuza shows up again before the bridge is completed," Kakashi said. "I understand you're mad at Naruto, but the two of you need to work it out."

Sasuke scowls, scrubbing the pan with the soapy sponge in his hand. He's helping Tsunami with the dirty dishes while Naruto hangs out with Inari upstairs.

Sasuke hopes he stays there.

"Are you and your friend having a fight?" Tsunami asks, taking the pan from Sasuke and drying it.

Sasuke grits his teeth, scrubbing the next dish he picks up with more force than necessary. "Kind of."

"I'm sorry. I hope the two of you can work it out. He's been so much help with Inari. He's made him _smile_ again."

Despite his irritation, Sasuke feels a flicker of fondness in his chest. "Yeah. Naruto does that."

The sink has gotten clogged. Sasuke reaches into the rising water, then hisses as pain slices across his finger. He yanks his hand from the water. He's cut it on the edge of a knife.

"Oh dear," Tsunami says when she sees the blood. "Let me get you a bandage. Wash it off under the faucet—”

That's when the wall of the house is sliced through with a blade, collapsing to admit two men into the house. Tsunami screams in surprise, backing up against the counter.

Sasuke forgets about the cut instantly, drawing his sword and stepping forward. "Stay behind me."

The intruder with the gray hair and hat smirks. "How cute. The brat thinks he can protect you from us."

Sasuke frowns, his stance shifting slightly. _So they're after Tsunami? Not Tazuna?_

His eyes glance over the two of them. Their clothes and skin tone are similar to the people who hail from here, and they aren't wearing village headbands. Not shinobi, then—just thugs.

Sasuke can take them.

"You're not taking her," he says.

Tsunami frowns. "Sasuke—"

"We're to take the lady hostage," the other thug says—the one with the eyepatch. "Gato's orders. You don't scare us, kid."

"I should."

Eyepatch pulls out his sword. Their blades clash, metal against metal. This man has the advantage of height, but Sasuke's trained how to compensate for that. Two of the people he's sparred with have been taller than him.

The other thug tries to get to Tsunami while he's otherwised engaged. Sasuke pivots, his foot connecting with the man's midsection. He flies across the room, skidding across the table before hitting the floor. Dishes shatter loudly.

"Mom?"

Tsunami's eyes go wide. Hidden partially in the kitchen doorway is Inari, a terrified look on his face.

"No!" Tsunami yells. "Don't come out here! Run away!"

 _Damnit_ , Sasuke thinks. Where the hell is Naruto? Why isn't he down here?

The plan here is very clear. Kidnap the bridge builder's daughter, get the build builder to surrender in exchange for her life. Unfortunately, they have no need or want for a second hostage.

"Please don't hurt my son," Tsunami says, her face pale and her voice shaking. "I'm _begging_ you! Don't hurt him!"

Sasuke feels chilled down to the bone. This is exactly how his dream went—and a direct reenactment of what happened on _that night_. His mother pushing him behind her, begging the ANBU agents not to hurt him—

( _"Sasuke!"_ )

Like _hell_ Sasuke's letting that happen again.

So, Sasuke tightens his grip on his sword and he fights them. He fights them the way he wishes he fought to protect his mother, instead of allowing her to die for him and then being hidden away.

The taller, more violent of the two thugs lunges for Inari. Sasuke twists his sword from his hand, bringing his own blade across the man's throat.

These guys are just thugs. They came here prepared to overpower a civilian woman and her child. They didn't plan for a trained shinobi—even one who's as young as Sasuke.

Sasuke doesn't kill the other one, just knocks him out. He'll tie him up, and then maybe Kakashi can get information out of him.

He wipes the blood from his blade. Inari rushes into his mother's open arms.

When Sasuke moves to tie the thug up, that's when loud footsteps pound down the stairs. Naruto appears, his expression completely frantic.

"Inari! Are you okay?! Sasuke, what happened?!"

Sasuke turns his head to glare at him. "About time you showed up. Where were you?"

"I fell asleep! I woke up when I heard fighting!"

"Idiot," Sasuke says, rolling his eyes. "Get out of here and go get Kakashi. Tell him what happened and to come back here."

Naruto glances at Inari still in his mother's arms, blue eyes scanning him worriedly.

"I'm okay, Naruto," the boy assures him, wiping at the tears on his face. "You should go find the rest of your team. Make sure my grandfather's okay!"

Naruto nods, running out the door.

Tsunami hugs her son to her tighly, kneeling on the floor. She looks up and meets Sasuke's eyes.

" _Thank you_."

Sasuke swallows. "You're safe now," he tells her.

* * *

Naruto doesn't come back. Sasuke waits at the house half an hour before deciding to go after him.

He arrives on the docks to a disaster.

At first, he can't make out anything through the thick mist. He has to activate his Sharingan to see through it. Kakashi is locked in battle, his left eye bared. Sakura is littered with cuts and slashes from senbon, struggling to stay standing and protect the bridge builder. And Naruto...

Feet away, there are multiple mirrors made from ice. Sasuke can see the chakra imbedded in them with his Sharingan, so they must be some type of Ice Release jutsu. And from within them, a violent, red chakra is rising up into the sky.

It's dark and malevolent. Sasuke's never felt anything so heavy. He lands next to Sakura and Tazuna.

"Sasuke-kun!" Sakura yells. She nearly falls over from her injuries, and Sasuke catches her.

"What's going on?" he demands. "Is Naruto inside there?"

Sakura nods, a look of fear on her face. "That boy trapped him inside there with him. I don't know what happened!"

Suddenly, all of the mirrors _shatter_. Sakura shrieks, hiding her face in Sasuke's chest. Sasuke stares as he gets a look at his best friend.

He's surrounded by that strange chakra. His nails have become sharp, as well as his teeth. The whisker marks on his cheeks are more distinctive. Crouched and growling, like an animal.

"What's happening to him?!" Tazuna yells.

"The Nine-Tails!" Kakashi shouts, fear in his voice. He's a good distance away, surrounded by fog and locked in a stalemate with Zabuza. "The seal is breaking—get away from him now!"

_Nine-Tails._

Sasuke's eyes widen, as the dozens of puzzle pieces come together in his mind.

_Naruto is the Nine-Tails' jinchuuriki._

"Nine-Tails?!" Sakura repeats. "I don't understand! What is Sensei talking about?! What's happening to Naruto?!"

Sasuke ignores her, focusing on his best friend in the center of the red cloud of chakra. He shoves aside his shock, his confusion, and he focuses on what he has to do. He walks forward, toward Naruto.

"Sasuke-kun!" Sakura shouts. "What are you _doing_?!"

 _I don't know,_ Sasuke thinks.

He's never done this before. He's only read that it's possible. But the ancient stone tablet beneath their clan's shrine is hardly a how-to manual, and knowing the Mangekou Sharingan grants its user the ability to control a bijuu isn't a guarantee he'll be able to do it.

Sasuke focuses on Naruto. On the red eyes, a shade darker than the Sharingan, and so unnatural in his face.

Sasuke allows his Sharingan to change, the black bleeding into the iris and the red becoming a six-point star. He looks into Naruto's eyes and _dives_.

The mist-ridden landscape disappears. He's standing in shallow, knee-deep water. In front of him are the bars of a jail cell, endlessly reaching, and behind them—

"Holy fucking shit," Sasuke breathes. If Itachi were here, he would've smacked him for the language.

The Kyuubi is in front of him—half in darkness, its red eyes piercing. The violent demon that tore up Konoha, that the Fourth Hokage sealed away. Inside _Naruto_.

" _Uchiha_ ," the beast growls.

The bloodlust it's emitting, the killing intent—it's enough to make Sasuke want to turn his own sword on himself. It presses against his chest, threatening to paralyze him.

Sasuke forces himself to move, to meet the monster's eyes. Instinctively, his Mangekyou seems to know what to do, even when he doesn't. It's like he can feel the tendrils wrapping around the beast, constraining him and pulling him back. The bloodlust dulls, fading from the air—

Sasuke sways, exhaustion crashing over him like a tsunami—

He's back where he was before, surrounded by mist. Naruto looks up at him from the ground. His eyes are back to blue.

"Sasuke?"

Sasuke's world goes black.

* * *

The proceeding events, as Sasuke has them explained to him when he regains consciousness, happen like this:

The fake hunter-nin kills himself by jumping in front of Kakashi's Lightning Blade, saving Zabuza's life. Kakashi defeats Zabuza, and then Gato shows up on the bridge with his army of henchmen. The tycoon turns against Zabuza, claiming he isn't worth keeping around.

Zabuza shows a complete lack of care for Haku in death. Naruto gets quite riled up, screaming and yelling at Zabuza, and somehow, unbelievably, his words touch the rogue ninja's heart.

He rushes Gato, killing him violently, but he's fatally injured in the attempt. Kakashi places him next to Haku's body, so he can die next to him.

Apparently, the entire thing was quite sad, despite the fact that the two of them attempted to murder them several times. Sasuke supposes you had to be there.

When he wakes up, he's back in the guest bedroom of Tazuna's house. It was chakra exhaustion that caused him to faint. Also, apparently his eyes were bleeding—side-effect of the Mangekyou.

The Mangekyou that Itachi told him specifically _not to use._

Thankfully, there isn't any damage done to his vision. This _is_ the first time he's used his Mangekyou Sharingan in five years. But Kakashi has a lot of questions—questions Sasuke isn't sure he can answer.

Kakashi isn't a member of the Uchiha Clan, and the Mangekyou is a closely-guarded clan secret. Despite having a Sharingan, does he actually know about it? Itachi's his friend, sure—but Itachi's always been clear about keeping the existence of his Mangekyou from _everyone_.

Knowing what happened to Shisui, Sasuke understands that. He understands it even more now, knowing his best friend is the Nine-Tail's jinchuuriki.

(What would the elders say, if they knew Sasuke had the ability to control a bijuu? To _set it on the village_?)

Sasuke doesn't answer his sensei's questions about what happened with Naruto. He cites it as "clan business," and tells him to talk to Itachi.

After Kakashi leaves, Naruto comes into the room to talk with him. He tells him all about how he learned about the Nine-Tails—the stolen scroll, Mizuki-sensei trying to set him on the village, Iruka-sensei saving his life.

Sasuke is still a bit bitter about Naruto keeping this a secret. When he asks his best friend why, Naruto admits to being afraid. He didn’t want Sasuke to hate him as much as the rest of the village does.

"That is the _stupidest_ thing I've ever heard you say," Sasuke tells him.

Naruto smiles weakly, but it’s impossible not to see the relief in his eyes. “Yeah. I guess it was pretty stupid of me, huh?”

“Unbelievably stupid.”

As if he would ever side with Konoha against Naruto—after everything that was done to his clan? He walks down the streets and is treated like a pariah. Those hated glares and whispers don’t just follow Naruto, they follow him, too.

(Once, when he was nine, somebody attempted to throw a stone at the back of his head. Itachi had caught it in mid-air, his eyes going red, and had chucked it right back at them.

Nobody was ever stupid enough to try anything like that again.)

“So,” Naruto says. “Are we good?”

Sasuke rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we’re good. You moron.”

* * *

They bury Haku and Zabuza before they leave, marking the gravesite with the dead man's sword.

"Is that really the shinobi way?" Sakura asks, kneeling in the grass. "To use and be used as tools?"

Sasuke feels a choking bitterness rise up in his chest.

"All shinobi are tools to command," Kakashi says. "No point in wondering whether it's right or wrong. It just is. It's the same in the Hidden Leaf."

There's a roaring in his ears. Sasuke hears the screams of his clan, sees their bodies littering the streets. Men and women in white masks, blades glinting with blood in the moonlight.

He can feel his brother sobbing in his arms. _Breaking_.

"If that's what being a shinobi means, then I'm not sure I want to be one."

He can feel all of them look at him sharply—especially Kakashi. His brother is going to hear about this, he knows—but at this moment, he can't bring himself to care.

Because that's all they are to their village. All his parents were, all Itachi is, all he is.

 _Tools_. Disposable. Easily replaced.

Naruto makes some impassioned speech about his own Ninjas Way. Sasuke isn't listening. His mind is years away, watching his mother's eyes go dull.

* * *

It's late when they reach Konoha, the sky darkening. Kakashi tells them they can wait until tomorrow to give the report to the Hokage, granting them permission to go home. When Sasuke turns in the direction of his street, he finds Kakashi has fallen into step beside him.

Sasuke scowls at him. "I can get home by myself."

"I know. But Itachi's going to be pissed at me, and I'd rather deal with it tonight than have to deal with it first thing in the morning tomorrow."

It's ridiculous, how relieved Sasuke is when the door to his apartment opens and his brother is standing there. He isn't that fragile seven-year-old, afraid to have Itachi leave his sight. He shouldn't be experiencing separation anxiety after less than a week.

Still, Itachi smiles when he sees him, something in his eyes lightening, and Sasuke knows he's relieved to see him too.

"Sasuke," he says, happy but surprised. "You're back. I got your letter yesterday. So the mission went well?"

Kakashi winces slightly, his hand settling on Sasuke's shoulder. "Right. Itachi, about the mission..."

Ten minutes later finds the three of them sitting in the living room. Itachi is sitting next to Sasuke on the couch, and he's no longer smiling.

"You lied to me," he says with a glare.

"I didn't, necessarily," Sasuke says. "I said the mission was fine. Depending on your definition of the word—”

" _Zabuza Momochi_ , Sasuke! Do you have any idea—”

Kakashi raises his hand hesitantly. "Erm, if I may interject—”

Itachi shoots his friend a deadly glare. "Don't even get me started on _you_. You should've turned them around the moment the scope of the mission changed."

Kakashi wisely retreats from the conversation.

Sasuke scowls. "I don't understand why you're reacting like this. I'm fine."

"You could have _died_."

"But I _didn't_!"

Itachi sighs. In the face of Sasuke's anger, his expression softens.

"It just scares me," he admits. "The thought of losing you. You have no idea how much. You could have died, and I wouldn't have even known until..."

Sasuke feels his own anger fade at the rare display of openness. "I know. But I'm okay, Nii-san."

"Itachi," Kakashi says, leaning forward slightly. "I wouldn't have let anything happen to him. You know that."

The older Uchiha glares at him, though it isn't as fierce as before. "Don't think you're off the hook. I'll be having words with you."

Kakashi sighs. "Wonderful. Can't wait. I love it when my former kohais lecture me."

Eventually, Kakashi leaves. Sasuke doesn't tell Itachi about using the Mangekyou, not in front of Kakashi, but he can tell Itachi put the pieces together when it was explained to him what happened with Naruto.

"Are you mad?" Sasuke asks, once it's just the two of them.

Itachi sighs. He looks tired—but he always looks tired.

"I understand why you used it," he says. "It doesn't sound like you had much of a choice. But you _cannot_ let it happen again. If anyone finds out—”

"I know."

Sasuke's already worked it out in his head. The elders have been looking for a reason to get rid of the remaining two Uchiha since the massacre. And Naruto is Sasuke's _best friend_. If they knew his eyes could control the Tailed Beast inside him, the same way Madara Uchiha once was able to...

"They'd never let you near Naruto," his brother says. "They'd lock you up and seal your chakra. Or worse, they'd—”

"—kill me?"

Itachi's jaw tightens, but he doesn't disagree.

Sasuke's hands clench beneath the table. _Why do we stay here?_ he wants to ask. But he doesn't have the energy to start up that conversation.

He remembers Kakashi's words. _Shinobi exist as tools._

Itachi reaches out, squeezing his arm. "I really _am_ glad you're okay. But even if I do think Kakashi should have halted the mission… you did a good job."

Sasuke bites his tongue. "I'm tired. I'm gonna take a shower and go to bed."

Itachi blinks. "Oh. Okay. You're right, you should do that."

Sasuke stands up from the couch, keeping his eyes lowered. He's so fucking _tired_.

"Hey, Sasuke?"

Sasuke pauses in the doorway. He turns back. "Yeah?"

There's concern in Itachi's eyes as he looks at him. "...Are you okay?"

 _No_ , he thinks frantically. _Help me. I'm drowning._

"Yeah," he says instead. "I'm fine."

Because how he's feeling is too much to explain, and his brother wouldn't understand anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Itachi's crow that Sasuke named, Asuka - the two kanji that make up the name literally mean "to fly" and "bird," which is why Sakura says the name is on the nose 🤣


End file.
